


Panjandrum

by RueRambunctious



Series: Emergency Contact Universe [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Feels, Blood, Bodyguard, Choking, Criminal Masterminds, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Knifeplay, M/M, Murder Husbands, Organized Crime, Prison, Shower Sex, Smut, Snipers, Swearing, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 67,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RueRambunctious/pseuds/RueRambunctious
Summary: Sebastian pulled Jim from the gutter and their life is sickeningly domestic, if a little criminal.Then Sebastian gets himself incarcerated, and woe betide the criminal underworld when Jim decides to claw his way to the top of it. And woe betide Sebastian for missing dinner. (Second in a trilogy beginning with Emergency Contact. Can probably stand on its own, but the character dynamics and relationship progressions will make more sense if you start at the beginning.)





	1. Good

Sebastian chuckles fondly, watching Jim struggle to pull on his jeans.

“It isn't funny, Sebastian,” Jim snaps, scowling as he fights with the denim. “You've made me fat.”

Sebastian purses his lips in amusement. “Baby, you're not fat.”

Jim glares and pinches his flesh. “What do you call this then?”

Sebastian approaches with a soft smile. “Filling out and starting to resemble a healthy human body instead of a bag of bones?”

Jim jerks down his traitorous clothing and disgustedly kicks it away. “Nothing's _ever_ been too small for me,” he grumbles. “Well… shoes, I guess, but not… not...” He trails off and pouts darkly at Sebastian.

The blonde smiles. “You're also getting taller, if that helps.”

Jim looks fractionally mollified, but still mostly put out. “I barely recognise myself,” he mutters.

Sebastian strokes Jim's neck soothingly. He likes how Jim looks. Healthy and happy and gorgeous. As the brunet leans into the contact, Sebastian teases, “You know, I could get you a collar with your name on, pet, if you need help remembering who you are.”

Jim scowls and punches Sebastian's hard stomach.

Sebastian laughs, even though it hurts a bit, and pulls Jim into a kiss. The brunet melts immediately, thrilled at the contact despite the teasing, and his scarred arms stretch up around Sebastian's neck.

“You're supposed to be leaving,” Jim reminds him mildly.

“Always got time for one more kiss, love,” Sebastian promises, rubbing his shaven cheek against Jim's dark scruff.

Jim smiles softly and runs his fingers over the uneven skin of Sebastian's chest. The scars over the larger man's heart are healed over but still a vivid reddish pink.

The brunet dips his head to kiss the words. “I love you,” Jim says, unprompted, the words coming more frequently recently.

Sebastian's thick lips crack open in a beaming smile in response. He tugs Jim close, a strong arm around the small of the brunet's back (which is slightly easier to reach nowadays) and covers Jim's cheek with his free hand. He kisses Jim intently. “Love you too, Kitten.”

Jim's expression twitches, mostly pleased, but still a bit embarrassed about it.

“You going to be out long?” Jim asks. Absolutely not needy. But kind of missing Sebastian a little bit already.

Sebastian gifts a line of kisses from Jim's cheek, down his neck, and along the smaller man's shoulder. Jim leans into the contact blissfully.

“Just a few hours,” Sebastian reminds him. “I'll be back in time to bring you dinner.”

Jim smirks softly. “Not Chinese again.”

“Thai?” Sebastian asks, “or pizza?”

Jim shrugs, smiling into his favourite scar. “Surprise me.”

Sebastian nods. “You be alright on your own?”

“I'm a grown man, Sebastian,” Jim huffs, not truly annoyed.

“Really, brat?” Sebastian answers, nuzzling Jim fondly. “I thought you got easily bored.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “I can occupy myself with a wank; I'll be fine.”

Sebastian laughs. “Leave some energy for me.”

Jim smirks playfully. “I don't know about that. You'e abandoning me to play cards. _And_ we don't even need the money.”

Sebastian bites Jim's nose gently. “And you know fine well that I have to go lose some games sometimes, else everyone will realise what a rotten cheat they gamble with.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Don't expect me to soothe your ego when you get in. I might have expired from boredom by then.”

Sebastian chuckles. “Well we can't have that, can we, pet?” The blond reaches for his wallet and pulls out a plastic card. “Here, Sasslips, you can order yourself some better fitting clothes online this afternoon ...to contain all that ass.”

Jim makes a displeased noise but snatches the card anyway. “Keep talking like that and your visitation rights will be revoked.”

Sebastian drops to his knees playfully and spins Jim around, planting kisses along the smaller man's rump. “That would be a tragic shame for both of us.”

Jim pushes into the contact a little. “Don't start that or I won't let you go.”

Sebastian leans up and grins into the base of Jim's spine. “Early bedtime for us both tonight then?”

Jim snorts, not really annoyed by the soft jibe. “You think you can be well behaved long enough to get to that point?”

“When am I ever not on my best behaviour for you?” Sebastian grins.

Jim rolls his eyes. “There's no time to list examples, Sebby, you're already running late.”

Sebastian pulls himself to his feet reluctantly and reaches for his shirt, allowing Jim to give his left pectoral another kiss before buttoning up.

Jim hands Sebastian a grey suit jacket. The blond pulls it on, looking rich and charming and not so much like the sort of man who likes having his throat fucked in his armoury.

Sebastian grins at the appreciative look his boyfriend gives him. “See something you like, do you, Jim?”

The slim -but no longer skinny- brunet crosses his arms and smirks. “Hurry home and I might show you how much.”

Sebastian smiles again and pulls Jim close, running his fingers over the familiar, pale skin. “I am so tempted to cancel and just take you to bed again. But I fear that might set a dangerous precedent.”

Jim squeezes Sebastian's rear. “Go,” he tells the blond. “We can survive a few hours apart.”

Sebastian pouts, tempting Jim to reach up and bite that lower lip. “But do we really want to?”

Jim grins against Sebastian's chest. “You are not turning me into one of those needy boyfriends. Go lose a few grand so the rich people look down on you.”

“I'd rather _go_ down on you,” Sebastian murmurs.

“After dinner,” Jim chuckles, swatting the older man and trying to nudge him towards the stairs.

Sebastian unwillingly lets Jim lead him downstairs. He pauses to pull on a gleaming pair of Oxfords. 

Then he decides fuck it, he's going to be late anyway, and swoops Jim onto the counter.

“You're right; you are getting fatter,” Sebastian teases.

Jim punches the broad chest, but also arches onto his back as Sebastian pushes him down and kisses him deeply.

“Get. To. Work,” Jim responds breathily when he forces himself to pull away.

“But I love you,” Sebastian protests grumpily, his hair mussed from Jim's roaming fingers.

Jim tuts and smooths the errant blond tufts. “I love you too, but we can't keep doing this every time I can't come with you somewhere.”

Sebastian makes a displeased noise. “I'm going to have to find a way to earn enough that I never have to leave your side again.”

“You'd get bored,” Jim drawls.

Sebastian gives him an insulted look. “I absolutely wouldn't,” he says with sincerity shining in those pale eyes.

Jim's lips quirk. “Sebby. I love you. Get to the club.”

Sebastian sighs, firmly takes hold of either side of Jim's face for a brief, passionate kiss, then mutters, “Fine. Fine.”

The blond leaves, shooting Jim a look of pure, undiluted love over his shoulder. “Counting the seconds, love!”

Jim smiles despite how ridiculous it all is. “Love you too!” he shouts back as Sebastian disappears behind the lift doors.

His ears are pink and his chest is warm… and it's good. He could never have imagined that life could be so good.

Although this counter is bloody cold.

Jim slips down easily and pads back upstairs. He should really put clothes on if he's going to be deprived of Sebastian's body heat for a few hours.

Torture.

Jim gives his jeans a disgruntled look and fetches his black onesie, immediately feeling soothed as he is inclosed in the soft, familiar fabric. It smells a little like Sebastian from all their snuggling.

Jim smiles and inhales deeply. Things are good.


	2. One Time

“You fucking cheat.”

Of all the times Sebastian had expected that accusation this is not one of them.

“How can I be cheating?” he asks reasonably. “I'm losing sorely.”

Eyes narrow at Sebastian. “You're doing it. I know you are.”

It's one of the few times in his life that Sebastian honestly is not. He spreads his calloused palms in supplication. “Why would I possibly cheat to lose?”

Adair spreads his shoulders aggressively. Sebastian doesn't know the man well, but he knows the line, and the man is the older cousin of the notoriously explosive young Ronny Adair. If this one is as volatile the night is not going to go well.

“Gentlemen,” cautions one of the men at the table. “This is really not behaviour befitting the Bagatelle Club.” 

“Have I ever been a problem before?” Sebastian asks pointedly.

“No, Moran, you haven't,” the older man concedes.

“You see?” Sebastian says to Adair. “You're mistaken. Let's forget this.”

Adair puts his fists heavily on the table. “Ain't no mistake, Moran. I saw you cheating with my own eyes.”

Getting annoyed, Sebastian growls warningly, “You absolutely didn't.”

Adair leans over the table. “You threatening me, Moran?”

Sebastian squares his shoulders under his grey suit. He's really not in the mood for this, but Adair is evidently itching for a fight.

Fuck knows why.

“Do we need to take this outside, Adair?” Sebastian asks.

Adair curls his lip around his overly bleached teeth and stands quickly. “I'd be fucking delighted.”

One of the older men at the table ruffles his moustache indignantly. “Boys, this is hardly the time or place for scrapping like urchins.”

Sebastian puts his large hand on the man's shoulder. “We'll keep it to one of the back rooms. No scandal for the Club.”

“I have perfect trust in _you_ , young Sebastian, but this is simply not done. We are above that here. Sit down Adair. We have a game to finish.”

Adair sneers and tosses a hand across the table, spilling chips and moving cards, effectively ruining the game. “Game's over. Outside, Moran.”

Sebastian swallows a sigh. Sooner he gets this over with the sooner he can curl up with Jim. Should have just stayed home.

They'd have probably fucked six ways to Sunday by now if Sebastian had.

Most of the men around the table are now bickering in bitterness of the ruined game. The stakes were high and those believing they may have held winning hands are particularly vocal.

Fuck it. 

Sebastian crosses to the other side of the table with the silent, deadly grace of his tiger namesake and grabs the thick material of Adair's suit jacket, effectively dragging him to one of the back rooms.

Adair twists in the grip, cursing and swinging his fists, but Sebastian's got a good bit of weight on him and he absolutely refuses to rise to brawling in the open. Not here.

He doesn't want to have his membership tattoo removed thank you very much.

Sebastian shoves Adair into the room and lets him go with a push, closing the door behind them on interested, scandalised gazes. As though fights didn't regularly break out when there was so much money at stake.

Adair whirls around and makes a low noise in his throat.

Sebastian curls his lip. “Are you going to stop posturing or are we going to come to blows?”

“I've been wanting to beat your face in for a while, Moran.”

“Well that's charming,” Sebastian grumbles.

He notes how Adair's posture forewarns a charge and shifts his weight accordingly.

Sebastian darts out of the way of the swinging fist and feels exasperated. He could slit this idiot's throat in seconds if their altercation hadn't been so public.

And it wasn't his fault!

And he could have been crawling out of bed with Jim right now for hot takeaway food.

Sebastian moves out of the way of another blow and frowns.

Enough of this stupid shit. He lands a blow squarely on Adair's jaw that should have had the prat on the floor, but apparently the fucker is tougher than he seems, and snatches out at Sebastian's tie.

The blond twists, getting a grip on Adair's wrist, and the man's gaze widens as he processes the strap of leather over Sebastian's shirt as his suit jacket is crumpled back in the movement.

Before he can react, Adair grabs the gun from Sebastian's exposed holster, eyes glinting perilously.

Fuck.

Sebastian tackles him swiftly, really not wanting a bullet between the eyes tonight or any other.

The blow Sebastian lands to Adair's wrist should be enough to make the thief drop the weapon, but he doesn't. The men struggle, a cool sweat misting Sebastian's back as adrenaline races through his veins.

Why didn't Sebastian stay home with Jim? Tusseling without the risk of ending up in a box.

There is no fucking way they're planting him in the Moran crypt to be stuck with those fuckers for all eternity.

A sudden stab of ice runs through Sebastian. What would Jim do without him?

Adair's eyes open with shock as suddenly the Moran disgrace on top of him is fighting with unprecedented aggression, and he has ripped the gun away, and he's staring at Adair hard, panting like he could beat the man into mush on the rug.

Panicked for his life, Adair reaches desperately for the weapon.

Fingers wrap around the trigger before Sebastian can stop it.

Of all the fucking stupid…

The door bursts open at the gunshot, and Sebastian Moran is straddling a dead man with the smoking gun in his grip.

Fucking perfect. And fucking ridiculous, because the _one time_ that Sebastian is innocent…

The shocked faces crowding around the doorway warp with horror and indignation. This is _beneath_ the club.

This is what you pay other people for.

People like the disowned Moran.

Sebastian swallows. “We were struggling over the gun,” he says with a thick tongue as someone approaches.

A hand lands on his shoulder. “How the fuck can this disappear?” another member mutters.

Sebastian feels another frozen ache in his stomach. What if it doesn't?

Jim…


	3. Mrs Moran

Jim is incredibly anxious by the time he hears the lift gears groan softly in the quiet building. 

He dives to the doors, but his heart catches in his mouth at the sight of two people who are not Sebastian in the opening.

“Mrs Moran for you, Mr Moriarty, sir,” says one of the reception men. Jim's surprised to hear his name on the other man's tongue, and even more surprised by the unexpected presence of Sebastian's mother.

“Thank you, Jefferson,” she says dismissively, stepping out into the lobby and not sparing the help another glance.

She surprises Jim further with a kiss to the cheek and announces, “You had best take a seat, James, my dear. An unfortunate bit of news to deliver, I'm afraid.”

Jim freezes at her words and tone and suddenly feels utterly, incredibly, horrifyingly sick.

He feels himself sway, but then there is a tight, authoritative hold on his arm and Mrs Moran is guiding him carefully towards the couch.

“Breathe, sweetheart; he still is,” the woman reassures.

Jim lets out a shuddering breath and leans forwards towards his knees, eyes wide and relieved.

Sebastian's mother rubs a small circle in Jim's back with the air of someone who finds physical comfort perplexing. Jim appreciates the effort.

“My troublesome spawn has gotten himself into a rotten spot of bother, but he's physically unharmed,” Mrs Moran says. “Until I wrap my fingers in his ears, that is.”

“Did something happen at the Club?” Jim asks quietly.

Mrs Moran hums in agreement. “Nasty business with another boy. Augustus is naturally livid: it's going to take considerable effort and expense to clear up. And some time, unfortunately.”

“Can I see him?”

“Our little blackguard is incarcerated for the time being I'm afraid,” Mrs Moran sniffs, disgruntled. “And his father is of the opinion that Sebastian is much too old for us to arrange bail, stripe him, and ground him.”

“I'll stripe him for worrying me,” Jim mutters.

The woman's lips twitch. “Let me know if you need help holding his deserving self down. As things stand it's not clever to bribe bail anyway: this nonsense is going to be splashed all over the ink rags if we're not careful enough and one sniff of additional scandal might have Sebastian's sentence lengthened.”

Jim's stomach jolts. “How long are we talking?”

“For murder?” Mrs Moran looks rather inconvenienced. “I suppose six months is hopeful. I will put him over my knees in the courtroom if he gets years. The shame of his facing trial at all is unbearable.”

Jim tries to be amused at the mental image of whiplike Mrs Moran yanking the enormous yet seemingly well-deserving Sebastian over her bony lap for a smacking, but mostly Jim just feels sick, sick, sick. He cannot even let himself imagine Seb going to prison for years.

Six months without Sebastian sounds like a life sentence.

Mrs Moran squeezes Jim's hand. “I know, pet. Stiff upper lip.”

Jim gives a stilted nod. 

She pats his knee. Like she is really trying to fight her distaste for physical affection to comfort Jim.

It makes him feel strange.

“Now,” Sebastian's mother says, “Practical things. Do you have access to accounts for groceries and pin money and such? The utility bills should be automatic.”

Jim swallows. The plastic card Sebastian had given him that morning had seemed so inconsequential at the time.

“I can't spend his money,” Jim says firmly.

“Nonsense,” Mrs Moran says, just as firmly. “You are his significant other and it is Sebastian's responsibility to look after you. It's certainly not as though he cannot afford to provide for you, James.”

“I'm not his _wife_ ,” Jim protests crisply.

“My husband would be apoplectic if you were,” Mrs Moran says dryly. “But I know my son.”

Jim stares at his hands. He wants to cry.

He wants Sebastian.

Mrs Moran takes both of Jim's hands firmly. “I know dear, I know.” She looks him in the eyes. “You are going to be fine, Jim.”

Jim. She's absolutely trying to be nice.

Jim still feels tempted to vomit.

“Right,” Mrs Moran says. “Have you eaten?”

Jim shakes his head dully.

“Well first of all, I'm going to make you a cup of tea with something strong in it to put some colour back in your cheeks,” Mrs Moran declares, “then you will go upstairs and change out of that ridiculous thing, and then I will take you for dinner to ensure that you eat.”

Jim lifts his gaze. “You really don't have to.”

“And Sebastian really didn't have to get himself into trouble as usual, and yet here we all are,” Mrs Moran replies. “Just smile and do as you're told dear; you'll find it much easier.”

She gets up and starts moving about the kitchen freely, bustling with the tea and going through Sebastian's impressive collection of liquor.

Holding the warm cup Sebastian's mother puts in Jim's hands makes him feel a bit better. “Thank you,” he says softly.

Mrs Moran gives him a sidelong glance. “It's rather impressive that you've managed to keep my boy out of trouble for this long, dear. He's always been a magnet for strife.”

“I'm normally enough trouble for him,” Jim says bleakly.

“Remind him of that when you box his ears. And don't let him back into your bed until he's bought you a suitably expensive present,” Mrs Moran states.

Jim clasps his spiked tea. He wants Sebastian back _now_.


	4. Court

Sebastian tries not to fidget in his suit and cuffs, feeling distinctly frustrated that he's up on charges for a killing _he didn't technically commit_ and tries not to focus on the churning feeling in his gut.

It's bad enough that being back in court reminds Sebastian of being a bad little boy disappointing his 'upstanding' family. It's bad enough that the last time he brought such dishonour he got kicked out of the army and that had _stung_.

It's beyond awful that this time Sebastian is letting _Jim_ down. He's let Arty down.

The blond is unusually pliant as he is led upstairs to the courtroom.

Sebastian doesn't want to look at the benches to see who has come to watch, but he tells himself his soldier's instinct to sweep the room is too strong and he looks around. His only real instinct is to find Arty, but it's best if he doesn't think too hard about that right now.

Sebastian's parents are seated near the front, Augustus looking willing to strangle Sebastian with his bare hands if he was still physically able to subdue his enormous spawn. Sebastian's mother gives her boy a small nod, lips pressed together in rebuke.

There's a few Bagatelle boys, not quite looking at each other, as though admitting a loyalty to the disgraceful Moran is some sort of disloyalty to the Club.

And there. _There_ is a presence that makes Sebastian's heart stop.

Jim is sitting in the back in a suit, playing with that tabletop scar on the back of his head, and looking rather drawn and lost. He raises his eyes and meets Sebastian's gaze with a lurch.

 _I've missed you I've missed you I've missed you_ …

Sebastian keeps staring, tempted to just shout apologies across the courtroom, but then one of his solicitors is twisting the sleeve of Sebastian's suit urgently and the blond realises he is being spoken to.

He does his best to pay attention after that, but the physical distance between himself and Jim feels like physical discomfort: distracting and unpleasant. But Sebastian tries to listen and respond appropriately. Clearing the courtroom or receiving an additional charge for contempt of court are the last things they need.

And Sebastian really ought not alienate a judge who could throw him in the clink for years.

Sebastian need not have worried too much about the sentencing: a lenient two months because of his father's string pulling. Man slaughter. Sir Augustus is not slow to condemn his son's exposed tupetude in order to deflect some of the ballyhoo resultant from it, but he does his best to minimise the scandal. A Moran going down for years on a murder charge would not make his own life pleasant at the golfing ranges.

Sebastian cannot even touch the scar on his chest for comfort, his wrists restrained as they are. He watches Jim desperately.

Please don't be mad. _Please be okay, Kitten._

Two months. Jim feels a wave of relief. A measly two months for being caught with a smoking gun.

And yet… _two months_. Jim almost fell apart after _five days_ apart.

Sebastian had promised that if he ever had to work away for so long again he would pack Jim in his suitcase and lock him in the hotel room where he couldn't get up to any mischief.

Jim absently wonders what it would take for the authorities to accept him turning up and demanding to share a bunk with Sebastian for the two months. Maybe he could swing it as some sort of religious thing; Sebastian was certainly the only thing Jim believed in.

Jim presses his eyes closed. He feels sick. Two months apart.

He frowns, biting his lip hard, and forces back the tears that are burning his eyes, threatening to spill out of his control.

Everything is out of his control.

Jim opens his eyes, and a pale Sebastian is trying to send him an apologetic look across the room.

Jim wants to punch his face in.

He wants to bolt over there and beg Sebastian not to go, as though the blond has any choice in the matter.

Sebastian suddenly looks surprised, gaze a little to Jim's side, and the brunet looks up in confusion. Mrs Moran has made a point to separate from her red-faced husband's side and is looking down at Jim sympathetically.

“I am aware that this hurts right now,” Mrs Moran murmurs, “but it's often a good thing when your man knows he has disappointed you. You will be the one with the power when Bastian returns home looking for forgiveness.”

Jim presses his lips together, turning his gaze back to Sebastian. “I just want him home.”

She gazes sadly at the top of the boy's head. Patting it warily, she answers, “I know, dear.”

“I'm lost without him,” Jim whispers.

“No, you're not,” Mrs Moran says firmly. “Look at me, James.”

The brunet does so, his swimming eyes large and threatening to burst over, looking just as lost as he declared.

“Now you listen to me, young man,” Mrs Moran says. “You are far more than my son's ...lover. You are intelligent and strong and independent; perfectly capable of enjoying your own company for a couple of months and then giving my son hell when he returns to you. Is that clear?”

“Am I?” Jim murmurs. He glances back at Sebastian, his stomach roiling as the broad blond begins to be led away.

“You certainly are,” Mrs Moran bites. “Now sit up properly, straighten those shoulders, stop fidgeting, and for the love of all that is holy get those emotions under control where no one can see them. You are a grown man, James Moriarty, and you are perfectly capable of surviving this insignificant blip.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jim answers softly.

Sebastian clearly has a strained, somewhat bitter relationship with his mother, but honestly she has showed Jim more affection in three meetings than the brunet can remember ever receiving from his own mother.

He had always wondered whether his mother had brains in there somewhere. As a little boy faced with an addict, it had been hard to tell.

Jim didn't feel nearly as lost when he was taken away from his mother's cold body as he does watching Sebastian being led away in cuffs that catch the courtroom lights. Mrs Moran places a tight grip on Jim's shoulder, and it is the only thing that keeps him anchored.

“You are going to be perfectly fine, little one,” says Sebastian's mother.

Jim tries to think of all the things he has survived before, of how resourceful and clever he is, but all he manages to do is blurt out in a small voice, “Promise?”

“The partners of Moran men are above all things strong,” Mrs Moran says. “You are strong. And my boy loves you dearly, so he _will_ make this up to you.”


	5. Bzzt

Afterwards Jim cannot quite remember how he made it back home. Feeling stunned, the little brunet sheds the suit which seems tainted by being in court and flees upstairs.

Jim barely notices the cold. He burrows into Sebastian's side of the bed and clutches the pillow which still smells like the blond. The scent is both a dizzying comfort and an emotional kick to the stomach.

Two months.

The pillow isn't going to hold its scent for two months. Why the fuck had they done laundry the other day? Jim could have had a whole supply of Sebastian-scented clothing to ration out, but instead he's going to have to make do with a pillow and a few teeshirts.

He probably shouldn't be hugging this pillow to himself either, he's probably going to coat it in his own smell, but it's a compulsion Jim cannot fight. The pillow does not in any sense feel like the burning mountain of muscled heat which is Sebastian, but it's familiar and the scent is all he has.

Two months.

What can he do in two months? Jim tries to muse over something nice he could do for Sebastian, or something he could learn to do to impress on his return, but his normally brilliant, active brain feels sluggish and numb. Jim feels hurt and shock and not much else beyond an underlying despair and panic that he is trying to ignore. Inspiration does not have a look in.

Jim supposes the prison might permit phone calls or letters, but probably not this soon, and… what would Jim say? What is there to say? 'I love you, you utter cunt, come home.' 'Sorry Kit, a bit indisposed at Her Majesty's leisure for the time being. Have you brushed your teeth?'

Fuck. Jim has gotten so used to Sebastian babying him. It had annoyed him a little at first, Jim was always used to doing everything, but after accepting it as how Sebastian shows affection it's now… an utterly horrible thing to go without. Making breakfast alone this morning had been _awful_.

Two months. Two months of Jim making his own breakfasts. Of waking up alone. Of going to bed alone.

No goodnight kiss. No good morning kiss. No breakfast kiss. No shower kiss. No I-just-brushed-my-teeth kiss. No just because kiss.

Nothing.

Jim clutches the pillow. Two months of not being carried to bed and snuggling up and whispering nonsense to each other. No Sebastian waking him up if Jim has nightmares. No waking up sprawled over the chest of the man Jim loves. No Sebastian gently -or not so gently- gripping Jim's chin for a we-just-woke-up-together-and-isn't-that-perfect kiss.

Jim frowns and bites down on his already frayed lower lip. There is no way he is already starting to miss Sebastian's morning breath. That's not a thing.

Sebastian doesn't really have a lot of bad qualities, as far as Jim can tell.

The blond has claimed to have a problem with authority and to sometimes have poor impulse control, and perhaps he does, because Jim's still unclear on the details of Sebastian's crime, but they're not really… problems? Jim doesn't like authority much either, and his poor impulse control is far more lacking than Sebastian's restraint. Sebastian's the most patient person Jim knows.

He is so giving and so full of love. Sebastian is protective and selfless and kind and wicked and fuckable and...

The only bad thing about Sebastian is that Jim is utterly addicted to him, emotionally dependent on him, _and he's not fucking here_.

Well.

Jim is not going to spend two months pining. _He is not_.

Coming to the decision, Jim scowls and resolves himself to find something constructive to do with his time.

_Bzzt._

Jim freezes.

_Bzzt._

_Bzzt._

What is..?

_Bzzt._

That's a phone. A phone vibrating.

_Bzzt._

_Is Sebastian calling?_

_Bzzt._

Jim leaps out of bed, kicking away the tangled duvet, and follows the noise.

Oh.

Jim feels his stomach plummet. Just Sebastian's work phone. The brunet watches it stop ringing. The screen turns black.

Jim is about to turn away when a text lights up the screen. A job.

...Could Jim do that?

He's done it plenty of times before with Sebastian…

Fuck it. What else is there to do?

Jim accepts, sending off a curt reply then carries the dying phone over to a charger.

A job tomorrow. Fuck.

...It's not as though he's never worked before. A lot better this than some of the other things Jim's done for money...

The next day Jim dresses and goes to the flat for equipment. He's early, much too early, because his nerves are rattling.

He stares into the street as though trying to find a blue and yellow Dublin bus amongst the congestion, his head empty and buzzing at the same time, but it doesn't help to listen to the doubts.

He's not Sebastian. 

Jim is no epigone of the blond either; he has talents of his own. He can do this.

Jim walks into the building, shoulders stiff as security eye him. He glares, but his icy braggadocio might still get him killed if he's not careful. Best bite his tongue for now.

Perhaps soon just his gaze will be enough to gorgonise a room.


	6. Prison Visit

It's the first time Sebastian's been inside Pentonville, and he could have happily done without the experience, to be honest. His first night in The Ville is spent in A Wing and he is moved to C Wing the next day. He's lucky to have missed B Wing, as it is currently the detoxification wing, housing a number of miserable, volatile convicts, and originally housed the execution shed. Of course, executions had once taken place in A Wing too. And with British prisons being overcrowded, underfunded, and understaffed, 'executions' were not unusual in any of the other wings either. Apparently the prison has seven wings, four of which are hardly changed from how they appeared in the 1800s.

Sebastian doesn't really care about authoritarian architecture, and he does his best to block out memories of studying Foucault's 'Discipline and Punish', reading the men around him instead. He shares a cell with a skinny, muscled brunet painted mostly black with tattoos, and a charming black Brixton man with wrists like ham hocks and upper arms broader than Jim's shoulders.

Sebastian spends most of his free time in the gym, turning down any of the programmes or sporting accreditation as he's on a short stay, and does his best to avoid any unwanted attention. A Muslim gang seem to be running the place, but Sebastian's practiced the balance between being big enough to intimidate but not so big as to draw fights, and for the most part he is left alone. He has attended boarding school and undertaken military training: he knows how to avoid testosterone drama.

And he puts three men in intensive care without getting caught for it, which makes it easier to find a seat at the canteen. It's never been known as a particularly safe prison.

And the staff are sick of being poisoned (and understaffed).

The Victorian building is notorious for being possible to escape due to its dilapidated condition, but Sebastian ignores any such mutterings, not vying for any information from the inmate at his table in the differently coloured clothing, and trying very hard not to picture himself scaling the outer walls with bedsheets. Sebastian is damn well going to stick out his meagre two months and not break out of fucking prison to see his other half. He'd do his time, get it over with, and then they'd be free to live contentedly for the rest of their shared lives.

He's not going to spoil things.

Sebastian does not expect to receive a visitor at half past eight in the morning, but of course his family can get around paperwork such as his consent to a visit.

He doesn't truly expect his father's presence -the press, Christ- but Sebastian is relieved all the same not to see the man.

Mrs Moran arches her brow at her son's coloured bib. “You look like you're in here to play football.”

“I believe they do offer that,” Sebastian says, taking a seat on uncomfortable plastic. “Would you cheer for me if I joined the team?”

She gives him a cold look. “Are weak jokes all you have to say for yourself, young man?”

Sebastian swallows compulsively.

“I am _deeply_ ashamed of you, Sebastian,” his mother sniffs frostily. “I am aware that there is more fire in your blood than most young men, but one would think you would know how to avoid being caught by this point. You are not a little boy anymore.”

“It was hardly on purpose,” Sebastian mutters.

“Which perhaps makes the sorry affair all the more disappointing,” Mrs Moran says archly.

Sebastian stares at his hands. “Yeah, well, hopefully this is the last time.”

The woman smirks. “That you disappoint me, darling, or that you find yourself in _prison_?”

Sebastian gives a weak chuckle. “Well let's not get farcical: we are equally certain I'll never be a source of your pride.”

Mrs Moran examines her nails. “Perhaps we could be surprised.”

“I thought you said not to joke,” Sebastian says dryly.

“Fine; let's be serious then,” Mrs Moran snaps. “Did you know Pentonville was once a teaching prison for hangmen? You're lucky that all you're being punished with is a two month long time out.”

“Mother, I'm-”

“You need to _grow up_ Sebastian, or you're one day going to find yourself in trouble that you cannot charm your way out of, and it shall be too late for you,” the woman spits.

Sebastian tenses. “Mum-”

Mrs Moran leans as close as she can without drawing the suspicions of the guards. “You might find this hovel a parlous setting, little boy of mine, but if you come close to making me bury another child of mine _I will mount you to your father's wall amongst the big game_.”

Sebastian spreads his shoulders. “You can't exactly make me sleep on my stomach these days.”

The woman arches her shaped brows disapprovingly at her child's posturing. “I'm your mother Sebastian; I know that you often have to sleep on your little tummy in your big bed on Conduit Street.”

Sebastian's face falls in horror. “What?”

“I am offended that you presume I cannot read you, Sebastian,” Mrs Moran sighs. “I _raised_ you.”

“By proxy,” Sebastian cannot help but bite.

His mother fixes him with a look. “Do you really think you would have been better off relying on me to wipe your snotty nose and bandage your skinned knees?”

Sebastian is quiet.

“You wanted for nothing that I could give you,” Mrs Moran says icily.

Sebastian shifts in his seat, feeling resentment and something that he is less comfortable naming.

“Now that we have had our tiringly predictable row, let's speak of other important matters, shall we?” Mrs Moran states crisply.

Sebastian raises his blue eyes. “Like what?”

“Your darling brunet,” Mrs Moran says, “what else could be more pressing?”

Sebastian frowns, leaning forwards defensively. “If you think that-”

“Take that _bloody stupid_ tone out of your voice this instant if you want to keep your tongue, young man,” Mrs Moran warns.

“He's mine,” Sebastian snarls, “I won't let you-”

“Sebastian,” his mother snaps, “hold your tongue and let me speak, or I will pay one of these underpaid workers to take _you_ to an empty room and let me take my hairbrush across your behind.”

Sebastian sighs disgustedly. “Mother-”

“One more word, Sebastian Moran,” she warns.

Sebastian shifts in his seat in annoyance but gives the woman a look to indicate his cooperation. 

“That little boy is perfect for you,” Mrs Moran declares in a quiet, firm voice that her son has to lean in to hear. “Regardless of what your father might think.”

Sebastian blinks and falls back in his chair. “What?”

Mrs Moran purses her lips wryly. “I am aware of the rarity of our agreement, particularly on such an issue.”

Sebastian swallows. “Why would you-?”

His mother waves away his question dismissively. “That child is devastated by the consequences of your foolishness, I hope you realise.”

Sebastian feels like he has been punched in the gut by his mother's rebuke. Arty.

“And well you should feel guilty,” Mrs Moran chides. “More importantly, you are going to make it up to him.”

“Of- of course,” Sebastian agrees unsteadily.

“I was quite prepared to postpone my visit to scold you until you were here long enough to become hungry and bored, but you're likely to need all the time you have available to consider how best to make good to your partner,” Mrs Moran announces.

“I… You're right,” Sebastian sighs.

His mother fusses with her left hand. “I expect you to have obtained a ring for James' finger by Christmas, Sebastian. He's put up with a lot for you.”

Sebastian feels stunned. “You want me to propose?”

“Have you not already considered it?” Mrs Moran sneers.

Sebastian swallows. “We're _men_.”

“I had noticed dear,” his mother states dryly.

“You don't think it's...”

“Sebastian, I may always be strict with you, but I am not your father. I am not adverse to your happiness, however unconventional,” Mrs Moran states.

Sebastian blinks at her. “Mum...”

“Don't get soppy, Sebastian, it's unsightly,” Mrs Moran sighs.

Sebastian swallows. “Why a ring though?”

“Why not a ring? Your father might have disinherited you, but I don't desire _my_ grandchildren to grow up bastards.”

Sebastian laughs softly. “We're not gonna give you babies.”

“You'll please your mother and do as you're told,” Mrs Moran says soberly.

“You don't even like kids,” Sebastian points out.

For a flicker of an instant, his mother's expression softens. “Sebastian, even _you_ are a blessing.”

His heart skips a beat in astonishment.

The woman pushes back her chair quietly and stands to leave. “Grovel to your brunet and be engaged by the New Year.”

Sebastian nods numbly.


	7. The Crocodile Part One

Jim has always been clever, and has always been able to switch between invisible and intimidating. As such, it's not exactly _difficult_ to go about building a 'business' network. It's stressful to pretend he belongs, but he's got a reasonable grasp of spotting and sniping thanks to Sebastian, and Jim has always had a dark little flair for torture.

He thinks that everything's okay as far as employment is concerned. He thinks it is only his personal life which is charred and bleak.

He is mistaken.

Jim is not stupid, and he's been in enough unpleasant, dangerous situations to know when something has gone wrong. He is pretty certain he is in danger as soon as he steps into the building specified by Sebastian's burner phone.

Which he is, because a number of goons ambush his uneasy self and drag him into a room. Jim hardly even has time for his stomach to drop in real mortal dread when a cool voice interrupts the beginnings of pure panic.

“Thank you boys; that will be all for now.”

The men disperse immediately without giving Jim so much as a menacing glance. The brunet is unsure if that is good or bad.

He turns to look in the direction of the voice.

A woman, older than Jim, with an air of money and violence. She seems familiar… He's unsure why.

She gives Jim a stern look laced with malice. “Imagine my surprise when, despite the jobs I have been sending to Moran being completed, I discover that he is in prison. And that the money going into his account is being spent.” 

Jim swallows. He can feel his heart racing in his ears. This is it, then. He won't see Sebastian again. Maybe a few pieces of him might get sent to the blond before an ugly death…

“Look up when I am talking to you, boy,” the woman orders.

Jim's gaze snaps up immediately, his face pale.

What he sees forces all remaining blood to drain to his shoes. Jim is horrified as she opens her eyes and exposes the green tattoo inked over the white. 

There had been enough of a media frenzy surrounding this woman when Jim was a child that her beginnings were even broadcast through the Republic. His heart starts to hammer wildly because she's a proper, scary, powerful criminal, and he tries not to think back to what she could already do when he was only tiny. She's probably learned a whole lot more unsavory things to do to a person by now. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jim is so terrified that for a moment he cannot even think. She smirks blandly. “Ah, so you do know who you're working for. I'm unused to being at such a disadvantage.”

“I had-” Jim has to pause and clear his suddenly croaky throat nervously, “I had no idea I was working for you.”

“Well that's typically how it works, little man,” she states.

He nods feeling entirely out of his depth.

She raises a thick brow.

“Yes ma'am?” he ventures.

“Better,” she says. She turns her back on Jim nonchalantly and leads him towards a desk he had barely registered in his fright. “Take a seat,” she says brusquely, “you look like you're about to pass out.”

Jim nods jerkily and steps towards it, feeling dizzy and stunned. He finds the presence of mind to blurt out a second, weak, “Yes ma'am.”

She leans over the desk a fraction as she steeples her fingers. “Now at first I thought that Moran's twin might have been involved, but I've checked, and my eyes on that one report he's still going about his duty in some awful sandy place.” She gives him a cool look. 

Jim squeaks out that same bland response. 

She continues, “I was quite intrigued to find you coming and going from Moran's residence and to hear that he had taken you along to some of his more colourful work.”

“Yes ma'am?”

The woman's eyes glitter. “Say that again and I'll have your tongue, shorty.”

Jim swallows visibly. “Sorry.”

She nods musingly. “I have to say I do not like how you have gone about things.”

Jim shrinks in on himself fearfully.

“However,” she continues, “you have provided a passable service.”

Jim glances up.

She leans back and smiles dangerously. “So. How would you like to come into my employ properly?”


	8. Released

Sebastian is in a strange mood come his release date. Part of the time he is practically floating, singing to himself and ...part of him feels acidic apprehension twist his guts and make his movements falter.

What is he coming home to? Will Jim be alright? What if he's not? What if he's mad? What if he's incredibly hurt?

However, whatever mood Jim is in, Sebastian will be glad to see him. Two months. They've never been apart for two months before. And they'll never be apart for such a length of time ever again, if Sebastian has his way.

Two months of waking up without that little brunet on his chest. Two months without Jim's giggle, or pouts, or a pale little fist punching Sebastian's shoulder over some cheeky banter. Two months without Jim tying Sebastian to the headboard and doing as he pleased; two months without Sebastian pinning Jim to a wall after a successful kill and fucking the screaming, scratching, little vixen into a puddle of contentedness. 

Two months of never hearing those lips shape 'Tiger' in that soft, loving voice.

Sebastian practically flies to Conduit Street in desperation to see his brunet. His heart pounds in the elevator. _He's home, he's home, he's home..._

Sebastian lets himself into their apartment and calls out jubilantly to Jim. He knows he'll probably be facing a harsh telling off for his absence at some point, but Sebastian cannot suppress his utter joy to be home. He needs to see his Jim.

No one calls back.

Sebastian's spirits plummet. Jim must have taken the failure hard if he won't even speak.

Feeling guilty and apprehensive, Sebastian climbs up to the bedroom, expecting to find Jim nested in their bed with a jutted lower lip.

Something jars deep within Sebastian as he discovers a made bed. He drops his bag and starts searching the flat.

Nowhere. Jim is nowhere to be found.

Sebastian rubs at the scar on his chest anxiously, feeling panic beginning to surge up inside. Jim wouldn't leave. He _wouldn't_. Not when they felt as they did about each other.

...Didn't they?

Sebastian stamps down on that doubt feeling disloyal. Obviously Jim wouldn't just leave. He was probably out at the shops or something. Maybe taking a smoke in the park to gather his thoughts.

Right, that's reasonable. Sebastian has made Jim wait for months, he can wait himself until Jim feels ready to come back home.

Sebastian drifts back downstairs and looks for something to tidy to kill the time, but the apartment is unusually clean. It's not that the place is ever usually messy, but it normally looks more lived in than this. Perhaps Jim tidied up in anticipation of Sebastian's arrival.

The blond doesn't want to examine why that thought makes him nervous. It shouldn't.

Coffee. Where is the coffee?

Sebastian crossly wills his hands to stop shaking as he fixes himself a strong cup of black coffee. There is nothing to worry about.

Sebastian hisses as he scalds himself and drops his cup back on the counter, spilling dark liquid over the surface and down the cabinet drawers.

Sticking his hand in his mouth reflexively and ignoring how his eyes prick with tears, Sebastian steps over to the sink and runs his burn under the cold tap. Idiot.

Sighing, Sebastian cleans up then prepares a replacement.

He settles on the couch nervously. He just wants Jim to come home.

Where is he?

After a few hours have passed Sebastian admits to himself the he feels positively sick. Where is Jim?

Sebastian pulls out his phone and logs in to the bank account Jim has access to. Sebastian stares at the unexpected numbers. 

Money has been withdrawn from one of his accounts then replaced. Payments have been going in. Bigger than what was spent… 

How had Jim repaid the money? Had he gone back to..?

He wouldn't, would he? Would he?

Sebastian feels utterly nauseous. He and Jim are going to have a talk when the brunet returns. 

If he returns.

 _Why_ would he want to go back to that life?

Two months. Sebastian had only been gone two months. Couldn't Jim have just waited..?

Wait. Sebastian examines some of the payments into his account. Those are work payments. ...When _he_ hasn't been working.

Feeling a cold streak of apprehension down his spine, Sebastian stands and looks for Jim's knife.

It's not there. And Sebastian's own toys have been moved.

Is Jim..?

Is Jim on a _job_ right now?

Sebastian steps upstairs numbly and goes to look out Jim's onesie in the hopes that inhaling it will ease his accelerated pulse and racing mind. Only… he can't find it.

No.

No, no, fuck no!

Sebastian tears apart the apartment but he can't find it. Why the fuck would Jim take that unless he wasn't coming back?

Sebastian dives over to the kitchen and is violently sick.


	9. The Crocodile Part Two

Although he doesn't look it, Jim is distinctly wary as he follows the instructions sent to his phone. He hasn't been home in a few days (and if he's honest with himself he is apprehensive of doing so) but he is clean shaven and sharply dressed.

Jim enters the restaurant. It's the sort of place Mrs Moran might approve of and Jim feels an ache in his chest at the lack of Sebastian at his side.

Don't think about that now.

“James Hook,” Jim tells the maître d'. Of course, a crocodile removes Captain Hook's hand in the tale, but Jim was an avid enough reader as a child to remember that Hook was an old Etonian who attended Balliol, an Oxford college. As Sebastian had.

It gives Jim an uncomfortable feeling. He is not Sebastian: the brunet is something insurmountably more twisted. And yet… the reminder of Seb is welcome all the same.

Jim follows silently until he stands before an occupied table in a dim corner from which the entire floor can be surveyed.

“Ma'am,” Jim greets.

The Crocodile inclines a hand heavy with ostentatious rings. “You are capable of sitting, I believe.”

Jim slips into his chair quickly. His heart pounds with trepidation, but he cannot deny there is a heat in his chest; the thrill of danger sets his fingertips tingling.

The woman snaps her fingers impatiently at a waiter. He scurries forwards and obeys with mostly steady hands as he is prompted to fill a glass for 'James'.

The Crocodile sips what remains in her own as she prepares her words. Jim barely notices the waiter wipe the bottle neck with a cloth and withdraw.

The Crocodile swallows and fixes her eyes on Jim. He tries not to flinch.

“Naturally I look into those in my employ,” she begins.

Jim waits as she regards him imperiously. “Took me a bit of time to track down your birth name, but once I did it was easy enough to follow the trail to where you were placed after your grandmother died.”

Jim almost falls out of his chair. _How was that possible? ___

__The Crocodile blinks and purses her wrinkled lips. “I do have quite a lot at my disposal, little man.”_ _

__Jim swallows. “Evidently. ...Ma'am.”_ _

__The woman drinks slowly, the expensively cut stones near her knuckles barely glittering in the poor lighting. Her lipstick leaves a waxy, wet mark on the lip of the glass as the red wine rushes to pool above the stem as she sets the glass on the tablecloth. Jim stares at it quietly. It reminds him of the bloody drool of death._ _

__“I did not just call you here to tell you I know your birth name,” The Crocodile comments._ _

__Jim looks up, raising his brows attentively._ _

__She lifts her glass again and choses her words with consideration. “As it turns out, your father is still alive and has amassed quite a few debts to one of my friends across the water.”_ _

__Jim flinches._ _

__He believes he is to be punished for that; The Crocodile can read it all over his face. “No need to take fright, boy.”_ _

__Jim raises his brown eyes to her own gaze and tries not to stare at the tattoo or imagine how uncomfortable it must have been to obtain. “Ma'am?”_ _

__The Crocodile clasps her knobbled hands easily. “I was wondering whether you would like to make the hit?”_ _

__Jim blinks, suddenly very conscious of every noise in the restaurant. He takes his first gulp of the expensive wine. “You… want me to kill my father?”_ _

__The woman regards him with clever eyes. “Are you amenable to it?”_ _

__Jim takes another sip of wine. He doesn't really have to think about this, does he? “Please.”_ _

__“I thought you might,” The Crocodile comments._ _

__Jim glances up at her questioningly._ _

__“I found your school health records… Hospital records,” The Crocodile explains._ _

__Jim nods slowly. No matter. The range of the weapon he'll use will keep him out of the distance where he might receive any more such injuries._ _

__Jim stares at his glass then looks at the enigmatic criminal before him. “Why did you ask me?”_ _

__“I know my own kind when I see it.”_ _

__Jim considers what he knows of the woman's past. According to the press when Jim was a little boy, the Crocodile was a mere girl when she started freaking out in school, insisting that something terrible was happening to her twin brother. The teachers called it crocodile tears and were not slow to punish her for such ridiculous attention seeking._ _

__The brother _was_ abused; mutilated; and slowly, brutally, murdered. His surroundings and the perpetrator exactly matched what the girl had tearfully described. The media took note. _ _

__Years later the school was razed to the ground and all of the teachers involved met gruesome fates, their eyes marked conspicuously with a crocodile tattoo._ _

__Everyone knew who had done it, but she was acquitted._ _

__Things went quiet for a while, and the media was once again occupied with bombings and the state of the economy._ _

__Then the tattooed corpses started cropping up everywhere. In excessive numbers._ _

__And now The Crocodile is sat before Jim, offering him pay to murder his own wretched father._ _

__What could possibly make this woman see something of herself in _Jim_?_ _


	10. Without

Sebastian cannot and does not sleep that night. He waits up in desperate hope that Jim will appear, perhaps looking a little tired and shamefaced, but _whole_ and absolutely still in love with Sebastian.

Of course this does not happen.

Sebastian sits with his back to the headboard and buries his chin in one of Jim's pillows. He inhales deeply, feeding his misery with the familiar scent. There's a bittersweet ache in his chest.

Sebastian's home, but it isn't home without Jim. Not remotely.

Home is Jim giggling against Sebastian's chest and raiding the biscuit tin and charming his way into Sebastian's showers and big brown eyes after being caught with a cigarette and darting little white hands stealing from Sebastian's plate and… urgh… just a million perfect things. Even their arguments Sebastian wouldn't trade for anything. Every moment with Jim is everything.

Jim is Sebastian's home. Not this shell. It's like being handed a plate when there's no food: a painful reminder of a deepset physical need unmet.

Sebastian is uncertain why he bothers, but when the sun rises he gives in and takes a shower, scrubbing as though he can somehow scrape the fog of heartache from his person. He physically startles as he wipes steam from the mirror to shave. He won't be winning beauty pageants any time soon.

He looks like hell.

Feels it too. What the fuck happened?

...Why didn't Jim want to wait for him?

Sebastian flinches as he nicks his square jaw, but finds he cannot bring himself to care as bright red blooms from the cut, seeping through the foam, and drips into the sink. He's mostly shaven and just doesn't care about _anything_ that isn't Jim.

Sebastian splashes a bit of water on his face and drags his palm over the remnants of shaving cream, making minimal effort to rinse the sink clean.

A drink. That's what Sebastian needs. A bloody neverending drink until he's fucking numb and can't remember why his chest hurts so much it's a fight to breath.

Sebastian drifts downstairs and raids his vast collection of alcohol. He peers at bottles of spirits and realises that he doesn't fucking care what he drinks. Sebastian plucks up a heavy bottle at random and carries it over to the metallic couch.

No need for a glass, no need for a mixer, no need to fucking pace himself. He's been out out prison for like a day, right? His old mates probably expect him to be having his stomach pumped by now. Reckless drinking is what Sebastian does _well_.

Or at least… Sebastian had been good at being 'bad' before Jim. It feels… wrong, now, to behave without abandon. To be reckless. To not give a fuck about good decisions.

He has finally experienced what it is to have purpose. Sebastian had something to live for in Jim. Something utterly beautiful.

And now?

Sebastian couldn't really care less about drinking himself to death in a short period of time. What's the point in _anything_?

What was the point in building something so _good_ for it to disappear without comprehension?

Sebastian can't even tell what he's drinking, except that it burns and his stomach hurts and…

He's crying.

Sebastian is unsure how much time has passed when he wakes up on the couch with a rough mouth, aching head, and roiling stomach. There is no pleasant moment when he forgets that Jim is gone. All Sebastian feels is the loss and the sickness.

He weighs up whether to gulp down water first or drag himself upstairs to the bathroom, but the decision is inconsequential. He's made a more important decision.

Sebastian isn't going to stay here. Not without Jim.

The blond barely bothers packing, his bag clinking with mismatched bottles, and trudges all the way to his scruffier flat.

The memories of Jim here hurt too, but it's less painful than Conduit Street.

Sebastian's in such a miserable haze that he doesn't even realise that he's being watched.


	11. The Card

Jim paces before coming to a halt and pinching the bridge of his nose. His mind is racing and he tries to will it to be quiet.

Worst yet, his stomach is fighting itself in some sort of awful self-flagellation for his choices and he is kind of clammy all over. He is not going to be sick. Not over something so… so fucking stupid.

He is _not_ going to be sick.

He feels sick.

He also feels almost (more than almost) like crying. Jim is not a cryer. All the same, the tension burns his eyes and makes him feel awful. It takes so much to even make him think about crying that the sensation is like flashing neon lights telling Jim how terrible it all is.

He tells himself that it's not, but it is.

He's made another horrible mistake again. A fucking huge one.

He feels dizzy and noise rushes in his ears and what the fuck is wrong with him? Normal people don't do this. Normal people don't _feel_ this.

No.

He doesn't feel anything. _He doesn't_.

Jim's hands shake and he clutches his face so hard it turns white and begins to ache.

He wills it all to go away, to shut up, to compartmentalise into idiotic ideas he can shove into a drawer in his mind and lock out of notice.

The noise echoing in his head recedes to niggling white noise. He rightens his breathing. Straightens his shoulders. Tells himself he doesn't feel hellish.

Opens his eyes.

Jim still feels sick. Too many memories, too much… guilt. Burning, awful, nauseating guilt.

He's not thinking about that. He's not thinking about… then… and he is definitely, absolutely, positively _not_ thinking about Sebastian. At all. Not ever.

Except he is. What the fuck has he done?

Jim feels tears prick his eyes again. 

Sebastian… Sebastian loves him. He does. _He does, he does, he does, he does_.

Does he?

Of course he does.

_Doesn't matter._

What Jim needs to bear in mind is that he needs to keep away. He was fucking stupid to get so close.

_Why did he get so close?_

...Because it felt good. It felt fucking amazing to feel loved. Actually, properly, honestly, perfectly, deliriously loved.

God, it hurts.

Good. It should fucking hurt. He should fucking know better. Love is not for him.

The breath catches in Jim's throat and he feels an acute wash of shame. Weak. He's so fucking weak.

Jim swallows the lump in his throat and glares the tears away under his eyelids.

He tells himself he'll leave it. He won't pick at the agonising festering wound and will toughen the fuck up.

But…

 _Sebastian_.

Jim feels a hot, shameful tear burn its way down his cheek and squeezes his short nails hard into his palms. No.

 _No_.

Sebastian.

Jim can't. He… He _needs_ …

Christ he loves him.

Jim feels a sudden chill of fright in his aching stomach. Sebastian won't want him back. Not now.

Jim's made his choice.

He claws at his scars with hate. Worthless, fucking-

Jim admonishes himself for quite some time and the arguments circle around in his head like the worst sort of torture.

He breaks.

A business card finds its way to Sebastian at a bar courtesy of an underling of The Crocodile.

The blond stares at it for a long time through a haze of too much alcohol, too little sleep, and too much heartache.

Archie speaks to the bartender and has Sebastian's tab cleared.

“You'll want to call him,” Sebastian's colleague declares, and the miserable sniper turns the card over in his shaking hands.

 _Jim_!

How the fuck can Jim have such an impact?


	12. Madame Moran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short chapter before an explosive meeting between the boys. Translations where needed are at the bottom!

Augustus Moran hates a great many things, but his wife's flashes of ugly emotion are certainly high on his list.

“Will you _settle_?” he booms at last.

She looks up instantly with a rage as sharp as anything he has ever displayed. “You lack even a sliver of concern!”

Augustus breathes slowly. “I should hardly need to remind _you_ of your indoor voice.”

His wife's eyes flash in warning. “Your child is _missing_ , Gus.”

“Some great loss,” he sneers coldly.

“He is our child,” Mrs Moran snarls. “Our oldest boy.”

“And more's the pity,” Augustus retorts.

“No one's home; he does not answer his phone; the rumours are Sebastian's in a bad way, _and you have nothing kind to say_?”

“You hardly married me for my kindness, wife of mine,” Augustus reminds her.

“That does not negate that something is wrong with him!”

“There is an inordinate amount wrong with him. What is it to us if the parasite drinks himself to death?” Augustus questions coolly.

“He is our oldest boy,” Mrs Moran bites.

“Hardly heir material. Ought do us all a favour and save us the paperwork of naming Severin,” Augustus retorts.

“So cold, Gus. It does not suit you,” Mrs Moran mutters.

“And neither does this frivolous display of emotion endear you,” he answers. “Calm yourself.”

The woman glares. “Our baby-”

“He's a damned grown man,” Augustus snarls. “And a worthless one at that!”

Mrs Moran flickers her purpleish eyelids and rises to her feet.

Augustus drops his face to his palm. “Do not be that way.”

Her shaped brows arch upwards bitterly. Without a word the woman turns to leave the room.

“You're making a fool of yourself,” Augustus scolds.

She tenses. “Et mon cul c'est du poulet!” Mrs Moran exclaims, storming from the room with a stiff flourish of her bony arm. “Pisse-froid.”

Mr Moran stares after her and shouts, “Pleure un coup, tu pisseras moins!” His wife does not react, merely storming upstairs angrily. After a long pause Augustus reluctantly follows. 

Her eyes narrow at the action. “Va te faire cuire le cul, sous-merde!”

The woman's unseemly hysterics quite fire Augustus' ire. He is tempted to bellow, but his wife tends to lapse into french when she is exceptionally displeased and he is not entirely willing to provoke her. 

“Madame Moran...” he warns.

She turns to chuckle bitterly. Her husband is English of Irish descent, and once used to speak to her in murmured Irish Gaelic lovingly, then later used it to argue 'inconspicuously' before the children. When he switches to French, the tongue in which she is most comfortable, it is his final warning.

More insultingly, he has long since foregone referring to her by name. She is her position; nothing more.

Yet she is more. She is a _mother_ and whatever Augustus lacks as a parent does not make her feel so little.

Her child is suffering and surely little James is also.

Her husband can rot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't spoken French confidently since I was about six, but the gist of translations are below:
> 
> “Et mon cul c'est du poulet! … Pisse-froid.”  
> And my ass is made of chicken [meaning 'you lie too obviously'.] You're cold as piss. 
> 
> “Pleure un coup, tu pisseras moins!”   
> Go on and cry, you'll piss less.
> 
> “Va te faire cuire le cul!”   
> Go cook your own arse, you worthless shit.


	13. Congratu-fucking-lations

It takes Sebastian more than a day to do more than stare at the card or glare at it crossly across the room from wherever he has dumped it before picking it back up again.

It makes him uneasy in an odd, unfamiliar way. The feeling is almost similar to possessing a report card whose grades within are going to get him caned, except it's sort of worse. Jim is love and rejection, and Sebastian is unconvinced he can deal with that.

He is frightened to accept the surge of hope the card has replaced in his chest, because the sickening, twisting feeling in his gut forebodes the notion that Jim merely wants to dump him face to face.

It hurts, but the uncertainty makes Sebastian a little angry too. Jim's never been good at just coming out and stating his feelings, but having a fucking business card with a phone number delivered? What sort of fucking weak, mysterious shit is that?

They're supposed to be lovers.

Or at least… they were. Before Sebastian messed everything up.

But all Jim had to do was wait!

Of course, even hungover to hell Sebastian can acknowledge that Jim struggles when left to his own devices. The brunet has a stubborn, self-destructive streak within wider than that brutal scar on his thin shoulder.

Maybe Sebastian's being unreasonable to resent being left alone. He knows it isn't easy to occupy Jim's skin. Left with his own thoughts, it's not entirely surprising that Jim has bolted. He probably thinks he's undeserving or something. Or afraid of being abandoned again.

Sebastian feels a fierce twist of guilt. He finds himself reaching for the already creased card and turning it over in his slightly shaky fingers yet again.

He calls the number.

Waiting for the call to connect makes Sebastian feel sick in a way few other phone calls ever had, including the very first time he had to phone home as a teenager and admit to being arrested.

It takes what feels like an uncomfortably long time for Jim to pick up.

“S...Sebastian.”

Sickly sweet pain curdles in the blond's chest as the hesitant voice awakens fierce need. Jim is currently pain, but he is eternally everything. Sebastian blurts the brunet's name and hates the rawness in his hungover voice, and worst still, the miserable need in that short word.

Jim's breath catches in surprise on the other side of the line. He had forgotten in the short space of time just how much Sebastian loved him, and had not quite believed that the blond would _miss_ him. Not like that. Not that _much_.

It leaves Jim bewildered and it is all he can do to utter an address and hang up swiftly to compose himself.

Fuck. He's still desperately in love with the other man.

Sebastian stares at the silent phone in his hand with a frown. Part of him wants to punch the little prick for such abruptness, but the panic in Jim's strained voice is blatant to Sebastian's trained ears. The stupid little brat is testing him _again_.

Sebastian rubs his face with his hand. He's almost tempted to spank his brunet but this is not entirely Jim's fault. It's Sebastian's. Sebastian left Jim to work himself into another freak out.

Sebastian left Jim alone.

Jim's always been alone before Sebastian, as far as the blond can surmise. The lonely former street kid surely considers Sebastian's abandoning him to be normal, and has used his survival skills to get on with things.

Sebastian cannot blame Arty for that.

And as much as Sebastian is tempted to despise himself for creating this horrible situation, he cannot allow any expression of self-hatred either. He needs to get to Jim. He needs to make this right.

Sebastian justifies the time it takes to shower and make himself presentable by considering Jim's propensity towards guilt: he's not going to put how quickly he has crumbled on the little brat. This is Sebastian's own mess.

Sebastian feels ridiculous for lingering once dressed. He checks his reflection nervously. Silly. This feels like a first date or worse.

And yet…

The possibility of rejection weighs heavy in Sebastian's chest. He cannot bear to imagine that possibility. The blond fusses with the cashmere turtleneck Jim likes snuggling into. Imaginary pieces of lint are plucked at and brushed away by Sebastian's calloused, strangely trembling fingers as he feels gratitude to his earlier self for avoiding wearing this top. He had shunned it due to Jim's fondness of it, but that means it is clean, and Sebastian has not been in the mindset to launder lately.

Eventually Sebastian cannot procrastinate any longer.

He forces himself to leave and makes his way with a bubbling stomach to the address Jim had blurted.

It's a hotel. Sebastian blinks at it, pondering his next move, before Jim breaks away from the shadows and approaches.

Sebastian swallows, the vision like a kick to the chest, but Jim snaps his head in a forceful 'no.' “Not here,” the brunet warns. “Follow me.”

Sebastian feels resentment rise in his chest, but Jim is already stepping stiff-backed into the foyer and snatching his thin shoulder to spin Jim around will only cause a scene.

Jim avoids the lifts and some of Sebastian's ire softens. The weekend they first met they had chosen the hotel stairs to linger longer in each other's company.

Jim looks to be faring better than Sebastian: he is fully alert and carefully dressed in pressed clothes whilst the blond's eyes are bloodshot and his posture is tentative. However, there are dark lines under Jim's eyes and his jaw twitches.

Jim leads Sebastian into a room without a word but his expression is tellingly tight.

Sebastian closes the door behind them and scans their surroundings. If Jim has been staying here the whole time it is hard to tell, because there isn't much by way of mess.

Sebastian would have been quite happy to have had Conduit Street utterly trashed so long as Jim had still been there.

Jim runs his fingers absently over the scar on the back of his head and stares at Sebastian through narrowed eyes. 

“You look like shit,” he comments at last.

It sounds accusatory to Sebastian's ears and he swallows a cross retort. “Feel like shit,” he responds instead.

“What did you start drinking for?” Jim asks.

Sebastian blinks, then shrugs, realising that Jim doesn't actually know much of his previous reputation as a hard-drinking bad boy. Jim's seen the alcohol stash in the kitchen and heard a few choice comments from Sebastian's mother about it, but he's never actually seen what Sebastian looks like after a proper bender before.

“Basher,” Jim prompts the thinking blond.

Sebastian's brows instantly knot. That's Jim trying to create a distance between them, and Sebastian understands that, really he does, but it… gets under his skin.

“Where the fuck were you?” the blond demands.

Jim tenses and looks around at their surroundings as if he would like to say he was here the whole time. Except… he looks guilty. Sebastian feels a surge of hope and love at that, thinking the argument won't be too terrible, but then Jim's face closes over. The brunet responds icily, “You fucked me; you tell me.”

Sebastian swallows. “I'm so sorry,” he says honestly. “I didn't mean to leave you alone.”

Jim's eyes flash. “I'm not helpless.”

“Didn't say you were,” Sebastian says with a slow, reasonable voice.

Jim presses his lips in a thin line. It makes more sense to be angry. It makes more sense to push Sebastian away. And yet…

What the fuck is he doing? 

Sebastian can read the struggle plainly on Jim's twitching face. “Love, are you okay?”

Jim raises his dark eyes sharply. “Don't fucking call me that!” he snarls.

The rebuke cuts, but Sebastian steps forwards anyway. “Jim...”

The brunet jerks back angrily, forcing out a warding hand even as he uses the other to cradle his racing mind. “Don't,” he spits.

“Jim. I'm _here_ ,” Sebastian states.

The shorter man throws up his head lividly. “Congratu-fucking-lations, Seb, it only took you _months_!”

Seb. Sebastian feels a sliver of relief. At least that's a good sign. “I know. I _know_. I fucked up, and I'm sorry. But I'm here now.”

“What for?” Jim asks bleakly.

“For you, obviously,” Sebastian responds.

“I...” Jim frowns, focusing inwards. “I'm not a good person.”

“So?” Sebastian asks.

Jim glances up quickly. Oh yeah. Sebastian always was a perfect fit.

But wasn't that the problem?

Jim swallows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this was supposed to be quite shouty, but apparently the boys had other ideas.


	14. Pebbles

Jim rubs his wide forehead with a noise of distress and crosses towards the bed. He looks so damn much like an adult in a suit and expensive shoes. Deadly capability hovers in his dark gaze as though reminding Sebastian what Jim is capable of.

All the same, Jim's shoulders are tight and his arms splay at a tight, uneasy angle. All Sebastian sees is a young whore in a tracksuit who doesn't believe he has anything to offer beyond the talents he can sell.

Forearms on his thighs, Jim rocks a little with nervous tension and tilts his chin upwards challengingly. His eyes glitter fiercely but there is so much raw need and panic jostling behind the mask.

Sebastian crouches down and sits himself on the floor to even out their height difference. Jim frowns a little at the unexpected move, but a fraction of him relaxes subconsciously. Sebastian is less threatening like this: Jim feels less pressure to lash out.

“So why would you think I needed you to be a good person?” the blond asks, not quite meeting Jim's gaze to make it easier for the other man to talk.

Jim shrugs uncomfortably. “You're good,” he mutters.

Sebastian chuckles softly, a sliver of darkness in the noise. “I kill people. Hurt people,” he responds. After a beat he mutters, “And I'm a drunk.”

Jim frowns. “Doesn't count. You're k… Nevermind.” He rubs his race and continues, “Fuck's that about, anyway?”

Sebastian shrugs, raising his brows and staring at his large hands. “S'always been there, just didn't have much reason to come out when-” _when we were together_ , he almost says, “when you were staying with me.”

Jim snorts. “A couple of months in prison was bad enough for a relapse, was it?”

Sebastian raises his head in surprise. “I grew up in boarding schools, prison's not...” He presses his eyes closed. “Almost everything about prison is a walk in the park.”

He doesn't say 'everything but being apart from you' because that's heated, and Jim doesn't like intensity much. Might push him further away.

Jim hears the breadcrumb in Sebastian's words but doesn't let himself pick it up.

“So,” Sebastian says after a tense pause, glancing at their bland, bothersome surroundings. “What have you been upto?”

Jim shrugs. “Working.”

Sebastian nods slowly. “I noticed. You didn't have to-”

“What else was I going to do?” Jim snaps harshly, nostrils suddenly flaring.

Sebastian takes a moment to smooth any possible argument from his face. “You could've stayed? Food and shelter and all that...”

Jim's eyes burn. “I'm not fucking idle.”

“I know,” Sebastian says quickly. “I just… I'd have liked if you were safe, you know? When I wasn't there to-”

“I don't need a fucking protector,” Jim states icily. 

Sebastian holds up a palm. “I didn't say that you did,” he says reasonably. “I just like to.”

Jim looks away quickly, because who the fuck ever did that before? Well except…

Don't. Fucking. Go. There.

“Great fucking job you've been doing of that recently,” Jim huffs instead.

Sebastian glances up. “True, but I'm back now...”

“Why the fuck should that make any difference?” Jim snarls. He gets to his feet and paces, a turbulent mixture of rage and anxiety.

Sebastian swallows uneasily. “Well, because-”

Jim strides towards the larger man predatorily. “Because _what_? I don't need a fucking white knight.”

Sebastian breathes out slowly and consciously unclenches his hands. A fight is not going to help this situation, and the outcome here is _important_. Terrifyingly so.

“I… never actually said you needed saving, you know,” the blond says carefully.

Jim stills then slowly tilts his head. “What?”

Sebastian shrugs and makes a face at his own lap. “You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. I just enjoy being the one to do that, is all. I know you don't _need_ me.”

Jim stares at Sebastian so long that the blond is unsure whether Jim will actually respond.

“...There's plenty of other pet projects that you could adopt,” Jim says at last, voice sounding strained.

Sebastian laughs bitterly. “Fuck them. No one's like you, are they?”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Hardly a selling feature.”

Sebastian picks at his short nails. “You'd be surprised.”

The brunet considers. His mind seems fill to burst with contradicting urges.

“I'm not going home,” Jim asserts abruptly. 

It doesn't hurt Sebastian as much as perhaps it should, because what the blond hones in on is the fact that Jim still considers Conduit Street their _home_. “Why not?” 

Jim turns away, glaring at the furniture. “Because...”

Sebastian shrugs, although his chest feels leaden despite the hope. “Door's always open to you either way.”

Jim arches a brow. “Why?”

Sebastian stretches out his legs. “You know how I feel about you.”

“Do I?” Jim mutters.

Sebastian looks up quickly. “I tell you all the time!”

Jim grips his elbows. “Then,” he replies.

Sebastian stands. He wants to rush to the brunet immediately, but Jim is radiating _don't touch me_ vibes. “I'll love you with my last breath,” Sebastian states firmly.

Jim's gaze flickers. “Don't bloody know why,” he sneers.

Sebastian crosses to the bed and grabs a pillow as he sits down. He does the latter to signal to Jim that there is no insinuation in the movement, but having something to hold is comforting. Sebastian fusses with the pillowslip baselessly.

“Because you're everything,” Sebastian says thickly. “Not that that obligates you.”

Jim sighs. “You're a fucking idiot.”

“Your idiot,” Sebastian mumbles.

Jim nods, but it seems more like a nervous twitch than an agreement. He sighs and paces around the space. “Are you… Are you staying?”

Sebastian blinks. “With you? Here?”

“The night,” Jim responds curtly.

Sebastian pauses tugging at the pillowcase. “I'll stay by you as long as you'll have me.”

Jim rolls his eyes in response, but closes his eyes the next time he swallows in a far less nonchalant manner.

He sighs. “I need to eat. I can't think straight.”

“Want to go out?” Sebastian asks. He wonders whether he looks kempt enough for a restaurant. He feels like hell.

Jim shakes his head and pulls a phone out of his pocket. He tosses it lightly to the blond. “Order us something, will you?”

“To the room or reception?” Sebastian asks.

Jim crosses to a desk and lifts a spare door key from a slip of card. He's had no need of two keys for the double room. The brunet hands Sebastian the card, indicating the room number.

Sebastian nods in thanks, feeling odd at Jim's proximity, and fumbles a bit as he types some details into the phone's browser.

Jim slopes back over to perch on the uncomfortable chair by the desk. Sebastian places the phone on the table beside the bed where they can see it light up if the food place calls. He kicks off his shoes and swings his feet up onto the bed in the hope that it will make him feel more comfortable.

It doesn't, but his socked toes brush heat from the spot Jim has vacated. It pulls oddly at Sebastian's stomach but he pushes his feet further into the heat. It's not physical touch, but he's been pretty starved in the past months. Even this is comforting, in a bittersweet sort of way.

They fall into uncomfortable silence, which seems to sting worse than it did when Jim first came to stay with Sebastian in Conduit Street.

Eventually Jim choses to break the quiet. “...So what's for dinner?”

Sebastian glances up. “Pebbles,” he murmurs absently. 

Jim frowns in bemusement. “What??” 

Sebastian's eyes widen and he chuckles ruefully at himself. “Nothing? ...Something my mother used to say. When my parents were rowing. It's stupid.” 

Jim stares at him searchingly, expression blank, then looks away. 

Sebastian rests his face in his hands. Put a ring on Jim's finger by Christmas, his mother had said. The chilly way things feel at the moment, Sebastian is uncertain whether Jim will _ever_ want that. 

“...Indian,” Sebastian blurts. “I ordered us Indian.”


	15. Suit Yourself

Dinner is the most horrendously awful, uncomfortable situation either could have imagined. Jim and Sebastian remain seated apart from each other and do not speak at all during the meal.

Neither can ever remember sharing a moment like _this_ together. Things between them had always been so easy. They had always been perfectly comfortable together.

Now it's all Jim can do not to throw his food at the wall in frustration at his confusing emotions, and Sebastian is doing his level best not to blub about something so insignificantly stupid as Jim not stealing as much as a look from his plate, never mind half the portion.

They sit just as awkwardly afterwards, throwing glances at each other and freezing every time their gazes meet.

What the fuck do they _say_?

Jim snaps to his feet eventually and stalks through to the bathroom. If it wasn't for the sound of vigorously brushed teeth Sebastian would have considered the move purely to escape his company.

Jim eyes the blond warily when he eventually returns. Sebastian looks up at the much missed brunet and wonders what he can possibly say to make this better.

Jim looks away sharply and starts pulling at his clothes.

Sebastian feels something twist in his gut. “What're you..?”

The brunet folds his clothing over the back of the chair and stands with squared shoulders and a tilted jaw. “Isn't this what you came for?”

Sebastian swallows. “I came for you, not for _that_.” It's not that lying with Jim has ever been distasteful, but he doesn't want it like _that_. Like it means nothing.

Jim shrugs coldly even though something he tries to ignore flutters in his chest. “Suit yourself.”

Sebastian tenses as Jim climbs onto the bed. The blond blinks stupidly as Jim takes a pillow and lies it between them as a barrier before dropping himself down onto the mattress.

Jim deliberately avoids Sebastian's blue eyes. He's not certain he can hold his defences otherwise.

Sebastian draws his gaze down over the tense, exposed white shoulder and the milkshake pink scars along Jim's thin arms. The blond tries not to inhale: he's pretty sure Jim's scent will feel like a kick to the chest.

“You can undress, you know,” Jim mutters. “I won't bite tonight.”

Sebastian blinks. He's uncertain how to take that.

But he undoes the first few buttons of his shirt and pulls it over his head.

Jim looks away immediately. The image is too bittersweet as a whole, but catching sight of the scars he has carved over Sebastian's heart is beyond painful even simply to imagine.

Sebastian closes his eyes and wills himself to just get under the covers and hope things fall back into place soon. This feels fucking horrible.

“Are you okay?” the blond whispers.

Jim grimaces into his pillow for a moment but keeps his voice even. “What do you mean?”

“This isn't exactly us, is it?” Sebastian comments starkly.

Jim sighs and pulls the duvet over his head. “Get fucking used to it,” he mutters, as much to himself as Seb.

Sebastian swallows and stares at the mound for a moment then reluctantly undresses further and gets under the quilt. He finds sleep to be a long time coming.

Jim does not suffer thus. For all his posturing and doubts, there's nothing that makes him feel safer than Sebastian's presence. The brunet is slumbering within mere minutes. It's the first real sleep he's had in months.

Sebastian knows that Jim sleeping beside him at all is a small victory, but the distance between them aches all the same. When the blond finally sleeps it is from sheer exhaustion, his thoughts twisting all the while.

Sheer, undiluted relief fills Sebastian in the morning when he finds a dark scalp under his nose and a weight on his chest. It's an exquisite blessing just to be near Jim again, but this proximity feels like heaven.

This is exactly how they're supposed to be.

Nonetheless Sebastian supposes Jim probably doesn't even realise his action. So Sebastian pretends to sleep on, and waits for Jim to wake.

True enough, when Jim's faculties return he scoots desperately to the other side of the bed.

But not immediately. Sebastian feels a swell in his chest, because Jim _lingered_ before pulling away.

Sebastian can smell Jim on himself and the bedding. He wonders whether he can pretend to sleep longer just to drink in the comforting scent.

A noise from the bedside table draws Jim's attention. He drags himself up sleepily and looks at his phone.

Sebastian stirs a little at the movement and wonders when the hell Jim got a phone of his own anyway.

Jim barely notices Sebastian's attention at first. Instead the brunet curls his lip in mild amusement at the screen in his hand. 'Congratulations on sorting out your domestic, now be a dear and put the big one to work. Details to follow.'

Jim rolls his eyes and wishes things were that simple. The phone beeps again.

He turns to Sebastian. “You awake, you big lump?”

“Kind of,” Sebastian admits.

“Got a job for you,” Jim states.

Sebastian frowns in confusion and pulls himself up a bit. “You do?”

“From higher up, obviously,” Jim mutters.

Sebastian stares at his clever little puzzle.

Jim shifts uneasily at the attention. “I'll get you a gun for later,” he states and slides out of bed. He rummages around before bringing a small case to Sebastian's bedside.

The brunet disappears back into the bathroom without another word.

Sebastian frowns dubiously at Jim's retreating back before turning and popping open the case.

Oh.

Sebastian stares at the fresh gun. It's a good one.

When the fuck did Jim learn how to pick a gun?


	16. Slightest Touch

As far as spotters go, Jim could be considered quite a good one. He has an uncanny ability to understand trajectories and wind speeds considering how recently Sebastian had taught the young man how to use a gun.

“I was good at maths,” Jim mutters tightly. “And physics.”

Sebastian feels something leap in his chest. Jim's normally quite closed-lipped about his past, and Sebastian is quite willing to see this chink of information as a good sign. Especially since the past few hours have passed in tense near silence.

Jim rubs at the pink mark on his face where he has been leaning against the rest for hours and absently starts fussing with his expensive scope. He dismantles his kit and shoves it away.

“Hurry up,” Jim states curtly. “We need to get this lot back.”

Sebastian glances up even as he continues to tidy away his gun and associated toys. Jobs where they have to give the tools back tend to be… higher than he imagined Jim's pay grade to be. Even though he has seen some of the payments in their bank account.

Sebastian wipes his prints away and stands stiffly.

Jim walks on ahead, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaving Sebastian to carry their kit. The blond shoulders the weight and cannot bring himself to feel any annoyance about it.

He's far more bothered that this is the first time they've killed a man together without so much as kissing afterward. 

Sebastian shifts his weight uncomfortably to adjust the useless tightness in his trousers and follows quickly. Jim glances over his shoulder with a frown at the change in the other man's tread and the sound of their bags brushing together, but one glance at Sebastian's discomfited, slightly wretched expression is all the explanation required. Jim drags his gaze down Sebastian's form too quickly to catch then turns back around speedily.

Sebastian's so damned pretty when he's embarrassed and frustrated.

Jim frowns to himself. The thought of being physically intimate with the Tiger makes him feel oddly anxious, and that's a new sort of nervousness. Jim tries to examine why his stomach curls in knots as he imagines Seb's hard body against his own, but the explanations he comes up with cannot possibly be correct.

Jim's never been that fucking precious and sentimental, _especially_ not about sex.

He's fucking relieved to get back to the 'office'. Sebastian's somewhat relieved too, if only for the distraction.

Although the blond swiftly tenses.

If Sebastian had any thoughts that he was imagining the massive difference in Jim's character, working together puts them to rest. The brunet had barely drawn gazes from Sebastian's colleagues before.

Now… something has changed. The men eye Jim with recognition and respect. He belongs here.

Eerily, some of the criminals seem to watch Jim with guarded, careful eyes. Uneasy postures. At first Sebastian wonders whether he is imagining things, but no, there is _definitely_ something odd and distrustful about the way grown men observe Jim.

Jim seems to know it too. His posture is almost blasé about the audience, and there is something even more worrying in his gaze. He holds secrets. More than usual.

Sebastian doesn't like it. He is on some level relieved and even proud that Jim is doing so well, but it is worrying. How has Jim done it? Has he gotten himself into anything that might get him harmed?

Jim can read the consternation and worry on Sebastian's familiar face. An ugly heat grows in the brunet's stomach and rises to his chest, seeming to lodge itself in Jim's throat. Shame. Jim feels guilty for the way concern twist's his blond's mouth and brow.

Bravely, Sebastian reaches out and rests his thick fingertips just barely upon the jutting nub of bone at the base of Jim's neck.

Barely holding in most of the flinch on time, _they're in public_ , Jim considers ignoring the touch. Except… the tenderness in that familiar yet barely there touch disarms him completely. Sebastian is clearly aching to touch him properly, to _hold_ him, but the broader man is doing his level best to respect Jim's aggravated instillation of distance.

Jim flicks his gaze around and up to Sebastian's big, blue eyes before he can remember not to.

Seb blinks slowly beneath his crinkled, young brow. His eyes are filled with love, but his expression isn't pleading or demanding, merely patient. He understands that Jim's desire for proximity sometimes makes the brunet's skin crawl, so Sebastian doesn't push.

Jim drops his gaze. He wonders whether the blond is patient because he knows Jim hates the distance between them, or whether the restraint is borne of foolish optimism.

Jim would like to know whether things will creep back into how they were before.

He oughtn't permit that: their tender relationship is a weakness that Jim should fight viciously.

However much his nerves sing out anxiously, the brunet doesn't want to maintain the eerie, awkward distance. Jim squeezes his nails into his palms and casts his dark eyes over their surroundings.

He can't give in to these farcical feelings. Love is a weakness he cannot afford, and even if Sebastian really is too loyal to ever leave him, that doesn't protect the blond from Jim's own failings. Jim is toxic, and forgetting that is selfish and weak.

Seb deserves better.

“Don't,” Jim mutters tiredly.

Sebastian withdraws instantly. The rejection stings. However, Jim allowed the touch for quite a bit of time before he baulked. At least some part of the brunet still wants touched.

Perhaps even still wants Sebastian.

The blond blinks and imagines working together if Jim properly dumps him. It's a horrible thought.

Jim hears the change in Sebastian's breathing and swings around questioningly. The blond's expression is suddenly tight, hurt, and withdrawn.

Something twists sharply in Jim's chest. Sebastian doesn't say anything, staring inward in pained contemplation, but Jim has a pretty clear idea what the blond is thinking about. He should let the blond experience the ache swiftly, let Sebastian get it over with, but Jim can't.

Jim cannot fucking bear that look on Sebby's face.

“Mind on the job, Tiger,” Jim prompts coolly.

Sebastian's focus snaps to him. He looks lost and miserable and hopeful and afraid, and Jim wants to be sick.

He wants to touch the blond, but that's a bloody stupid thing to do, even if they weren't in public, so Jim reaches up and takes one of the bags instead.


	17. Not Your Dog

The weight of the equipment over Sebastian's shoulders had kept him grounded and focused. As he steps back outside with Jim the lack of something concrete to do makes the blond uneasy.

Jim seems to notice, and in his own strange way, might even be inclined to help. Keeping his dark eyes fixed on the traffic before them, the brunet coolly asks, “Are you staying again?”

Sebastian blinks. It's hardly an offer to go home, but it's better than being waved off. “If you'd like,” he mumbles.

Jim gives him an odd, sidelong look. Sebastian's usually a lot more confident than that.

The brunet flicks his gaze back to the city with a small frown. “You'll need clothes.”

Sebastian looks down at yesterday's attire. “Yeah,” he sighs.

Jim fumbles in his pocket. He had perhaps not so absently lifted _both_ key cards this morning. He holds one over his shoulder to Sebastian.

The blond feels a surge of annoyance at the dismissal. He reaches out and catches Jim's thin wrist instead.

Jim jumps and spins around quickly, giving him a surprised look. “What?”

Sebastian uses his grip on Jim's arm to pull the shorter man closer, until Jim's quick breaths warm Sebastian's neck. “Stop it,” Sebastian warns.

Jim's gaze wavers. “Stop _what_?” he protests, trying to sound chiding and authoritative, but instead hearing a whine to his voice and hating it.

“I'm not your dog, Jim,” Sebastian scolds.

The brunet frowns and shrugs. “Then don't come to my room. What do I care?”

Sebastian growls a little in his throat. “Don't give me that either.”

Jim looks away. “Give you what?” he mutters.

Sebastian catches Jim's chin between thumb and forefinger. With a stern look he guides Jim back to meet his gaze. The brunet glowers warily.

“You wouldn't have offered if you didn't want me to,” Sebastian asserts.

Jim grimaces. “I can change my mind.”

“Which with you usually just means cutting off your nose to spite your face, so I won't let you,” Sebastian responds.

Jim tenses in further defensiveness. “You don't own me.”

“You're your own person,” Sebastian agrees. “But just because I belong to you does _not_ mean you get to treat me like I'm nothing.”

Jim's expression quivers for a moment as though he has no idea how to respond. Sebastian takes the opportunity to slide the hotel key from Jim's fingers and slip it into his own pocket.

“You're allowed to be pissed at me,” Sebastian states softly. “But you can't just _ignore_ me.”

Jim scowls and looks away. “Ignore you if I want,” he mumbles.

Sebastian yanks Jim's chin back unsympathetically. “Oh, you think, Kitten?”

Jim jerks away, emotional pain and anger flashing through his eyes. “Don't call me that!” he protests.

Sebastian grips Jim's stylish lapels. “Why not?”

The brunet bats at the much larger hand sulkily. “Just _don't_.”

Sebastian tugs the smaller man closer. “Too grown up for me now? Don't need me?”

Jim swallows. “I...”

“What, Jim?” Sebastian asks tiredly. “I can't give you what you want if you don't tell me what it is.”

Jim swallows. “I want you to leave me alone.” Even to his own ears that sounds like a lie.

Luckily, Sebastian is not stupid. He snorts derisively. “No you _don't_.”

Jim presses his lips together in a firm line. He can't agree to that. He _can't_.

Sebastian scrutinises the brunet's troubled face before stepping back with a sad look. “I wish you'd trust me, Arty.”

Jim raises his gaze quickly. “I d-” He cuts himself off with a splutter and turns away.

Sebastian shrugs, and even from the corner of Jim's eye the shorter man can see that the blond is hurt. Sebastian sighs. “If I go change will you even still be at the hotel?”

Jim freezes. He hadn't really thought that far ahead, but yeah, bolting _is_ the sort of thing he would do. Jim dips his head and pinches the bridge of his nose tightly. “I hadn't intended not to be,” he states honestly.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “But now you're tempted to?”

Jim grunts.

Sebastian sighs and rubs his forehead. “I love you, you fucking idiot. I'm not gonna hurt you.”

“Already did,” Jim says in a voice so quiet Sebastian almost misses it. Instead it twists the blond's heart.

“I didn't mean to,” Sebastian says truthfully.

Jim nods without turning around. “Yeah; I know that,” Jim mutters.

Sebastian regards the smaller man thoughtfully. “Do you think I'll leave you again?”

Jim shoves his hands in his pockets and starts to walk, half turning his face to invite Sebastian to follow. “You might...” he acknowledges.

Sebastian frowns in puzzlement at the clue in Jim's voice. “What else?”

Jim tries to roll his shoulders nonchalantly but Sebastian sees the tension there.

“...Are you in danger?” Sebastian asks gruffly.

Jim jumps a little. He shakes his head too quickly. “Don't be stupid.”

Sebastian glowers at the scar on the back of Jim's skull. “Something's wrong.”

Jim makes an exasperated noise that Sebastian has learned means, 'ye-es, that's true.'

The next question Sebastian asks makes him feel sick. “Did someone hurt you whilst I was banged up?”

Jim twitches a little. “No, course not.”

“Did someone threaten to?” Sebastian presses. “Because I'll-”

“Drop it, Seb,” Jim sighs. “It's fine.”

That sounds far too much like an affirmation for Sebastian's liking, but the blond doesn't push for the moment. “Then what's worrying you?”

Jim twitches his shoulders. “We're not a good match,” he says unconvincingly.

“That's horse shit,” Sebastian responds instantly, the dry tartness in his voice reminding Jim of the blond's mother.

Jim smiles despite himself, but forces himself to continue. “You could get hurt.”

“I could get hurt crossing the road,” Sebastian grumbles. “That's a crap excuse.”

Jim nods without looking around and considers. Sebastian waits. Jim sighs and says, “I… I was close to someone once. Growing up. I got him… Badly hurt. A lot.”

Another bit of Jim's past? He's almost never this forthcoming with those sorts of details. Sebastian watches Jim carefully. “Do you mean a boyfriend?”

Jim looks around quickly, startled, then shakes his head. “It… it was complicated.”

Sebastian straightens his back -he's been slumping the past few days, and that isn't like him at all- and spreads his shoulders. “You don't have to worry on my behalf. I can take care of myself.”

Jim rubs his forehead looking much older than his meagre years. “I'm… I've always been a beacon for trouble, you know? I'm not...”

Sebastian tenses his jaw. “What happened, Jim?”

Jim shifts edgily again. “I told you: nothing happened.”

“That's not how you're acting,” Sebastian argues mildly.

Jim comes to rest before a scabby doorway, and Sebastian realises Jim has been leading him to his grotty little flat.

The brunet turns his head a little. “Trust me Seb, I have no idea what I'm doing.”

Sebastian reaches out to place a reassuring hand on Jim's shoulder, but the suited waif twists away from the touch and pushes open the door.


	18. Let It

Jim mounts the stairs quickly, keeping a physical distance between himself and Sebastian. Their proximity seems to hum along his nerves. Worse still, the familiar surroundings make his chest tight.

He doesn't want to be here. Things were good here.

Things aren't good now.

He has no idea what things are now.

Jim imagines Sebastian's fingers burning the back of his neck.

He swallows and races higher. He can practically feel the blond's breath heating his skin; ghostly memories of murmured promises and playful threats reverberate within Jim's skull. 

Sebastian frowns as he climbs the stairs on longer legs and watches the agitation propel Jim ahead. The ticks show in the brunet's neck, shoulders and hands: Jim twitches and shivers as though something is manipulating his nerves.

Is he going to work himself into a meltdown?

Might be for the best if Jim does, Sebastian muses, feeling disloyal for the thought. At least if Jim erupts he'll lower his defences long enough to allow Sebastian beyond them.

As it is the young man is practically running up to Sebastian's flat to avoid being within touching distance. It's tragic and more than a little frustrating.

Jim freezes as they reach the correct floor and bounces on his heels for a moment before approaching the door. He tilts his head to either side as though trying to righten a tension in his neck. Twitches his nose and sniffs.

Jim tilts his head towards Sebastian pointedly, but his dark eyes dart all over the close.

Sebastian approaches slowly, careful of somehow setting off his mad little brunet, and unlocks the door.

Jim steps inside at once, striding towards the bedroom, then backtracks swiftly. He sidles past Sebastian nervously.

“I'll wait outside,” Jim declares.

Sebastian glances at him over his shoulder. “Suit yourself. How much am I packing?”

Jim's hands tremble so he shoves them in his pockets. “You can think for yourself Sebastian.”

Sebastian's jaw sets.

Jim takes half a step backwards.

The blond snorts. “Oh, you're not entirely oblivious then.”

Jim's brow twists and something akin to real pain juts his lower lip. “Don't start, Seb.”

“Me? Oh of course, me,” Sebastian mutters. He slumps against the wall and crosses his arms.

Jim's gaze flickers. He's uncertain how to respond to the blond's grumpiness. It's rare, but hardly unjustified.

The brunet swallows. “I can go. If...”

“Don't be a fucking idiot!” Sebastian snarls.

Jim flinches in surprise at the sudden display of raw feeling. Even Sebastian looks bewildered by the outburst. For a beat the blond stands motionless, then he frowns and shakes his head.

“I always want you around,” Sebastian states roughly. “You know that.”

Jim turns to the side a little. “Fuck knows why.”

Sebastian glances at the slight man and raises his brows. “You know precisely why, Arty.”

Jim crumples a little, his thin arms shielding his chest. “Why are you so fucking blind?”

“Blind to _what_?” Sebastian asks, sounding aggravated.

“How can you not see it?” Jim whispers. “Everyone else who ever looked at me could see it. What's wrong with you, Seb?”

“I don't see anything that worries me, never have,” Sebastian murmurs. “Except your propensity to run.”

Jim swallows. “It's usually the best thing for everyone.”

“You're not dangerous, Jim,” Sebastian asserts.

The brunet chortles. It sounds like broken glass falling down a drain. “I am, actually.” He stares at Sebastian's blue eyes as though compelled to explain but incapable of doing so. The stress makes his skull bob.

The floorboards groan as Sebastian pulls himself away from the wall and approaches Jim slowly in the narrow space. Jim flinches but holds his ground as Sebastian slides his arms out. Large palms pressed against the wall, the blond pens Jim in place and bows his head to press his forehead against Jim's.

“You're not dangerous to _me_ ,” Sebastian admonishes.

Jim leans into the contact desperately. “You're wrong,” he argues. “It'll catch up...”

Sebastian squares his body, perfectly hiding Jim from view. “Let it,” he growls. 

“Can't bear it if you get hurt,” Jim admits.

“I don't get hurt,” Sebastian drawls soothingly, face warm against Jim's. “ _I_ hurt people stupid enough to try.”

“I need you,” Jim whispers.

The words send a spasm of horror through his body and he pulls away from Sebastian's face, still held in place by the barriers of the blond's arms.

“Shh, it's alright,” Sebastian soothes. “It's okay to need someone. I need you.”

Jim trembles. “I can't, I- I- I can't...”

Sebastian's eyes widen and he spins Jim around, pinning the smaller man's back against his own broad chest. “Hey. _Hey_. Just breathe, okay?” Sebastian commands. He pushes himself up against the wall and slides down, pulling the hyperventilating brunet with him.

“You're okay, love, you're okay,” Sebastian insists. “Just breathe, that's it, good boy...”

Jim splutters, clutching at his chest, but manages to force himself back under control. “Sorry, I-”

“Jimmy,” Sebastian scolds. There's no need to apologise.

Jim grimaces, the disliked name snapping him out of the moment a little. “Sebby I've _warned_ you,” he pouts.

The blond chuckles fondly, relief loosening the tightness in his own chest. He kisses the side of Jim's chest and responds, “I know, boss.”

Jim tenses at the long-avoided gesture. He swallows. “Basher, I...”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “No. Shut up. Not listening to you anymore.”

Jim twists around, Sebastian's legs warm against his own. “But-”

Sebastian shakes his head then nuzzles Jim's jaw. “No. Your reasons are stupid. They don't count, so I'm not listening.”

Jim looks wary, but he twitches his skull in a small nod. He desperately wants to burrow into Sebastian's chest, but he cannot bring himself to. He's so weak…

Sebastian flicks the side of Jim's head, eliciting a noise of surprise and question. “I can see what you're thinking,” the blond chides. “Quit that.”

Jim bites his lip. After a beat he closes his eyes and mumbles, “Sebastian?”

The blond buries his nose in the corner of Jim's neck. “I know love, I know.”

Jim swallows. “I...”

Sebastian wraps his arms around Jim. “Stop overthinking.”

Jim chuckles weakly. “Wish I could.”

Sebastian raises one hand to card Jim's hair. The brunet closes his eyes and accepts the contact. Sebastian smiles to himself: Jim's so like a cat. Haughty and jumpy and all he really wants is a good scritch behind the ears.

“You've always been so fucking weird,” Jim murmurs.

Sebastian blinks and leans his chin on Jim's head, wondering not for the first time whether the little brunet can read minds. “How'd you figure?”

Jim tilts his head up just a little, relishing the proximity of Sebastian and the warm press of their flesh together. “You like me.”

Sebastian makes a grumbly noise in his throat, the vibration rumbling against Jim's scalp. “Excuse you, I _love_ you,” the blond corrects.

Jim snorts softly and reaches up to graze his fingertips along Sebastian's cheek. “Yeah, exactly. _Freak_.”

Sebastian grips Jim's fingers and presses them against his lips for a chaste kiss. “You're stuck with me.”

Jim keeps his hand above his head and traces his fingers against Sebastian's mouth. “You need to stop drinking so much. Your lips are dry.”

Sebastian smirks and nips at the fingers softly. “As you wish.”

“Stop it,” Jim scolds, soft voice amused.

Sebastian swipes out playfully with his tongue.

Jim gives a yelp of horrified laughter and dives forward, snatching away his damp hand. “ _Sebastian_ ,” he chides.

“What?” Sebastian says with faux innocence.

“I'll cut that tongue off,” Jim warns mildly.

Sebastian leans forwards and licks Jim's ear. “Sure you will.”

Jim leans into the touch then stills. “Wait.”

Sebastian freezes. “What?”

Jim swallows. “Just… not yet, alright?”

The blond pulls back against the wall to give the brunet space. “Yeah, course, whatever you-”

Jim turns and splays a palm on the larger man's chest. “Seb. That's not no, just… not yet, okay?”

Sebastian covers the hand with one of his own. He nods. “Whatever you need.”

Jim taps the chest under his palm and looks away with a small smile.

Sebastian grins back and opens his mouth to respond.

His pocket buzzes, lighting up the fabric over his thigh.

Jim shifts himself away a bit. “That's probably work.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “It can wait.”

Jim swats him lightly. “Check.”

Sebastian sighs but pulls out the offending object. He glowers at the screen.

“Well?” Jim prompts softly.

Sebastian lowers his phone. “I'm not going,” he says.

Jim's gaze flickers. “You have to.”

“Someone else can do it,” Sebastian declares. He taps Jim's hand. “This is more important. Us.”

“There...” Jim frowns. 'There is no us,' he should say. Only he can't. He _can't_ say that.

Sebastian notices and narrows his eyes warningly. “Yes there is.”

Jim takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. He nods.

“Not good enough, try again,” Sebastian teases.

Jim chortles softly in surprise. “Yeah, alright, there might be.”

Sebastian glowers. “Don't make me tie you up.”

Jim snorts and shoves Sebastian's arm. “Un-fucking-likely.”

The blond grins and traces his fingers over Jim's wrists where restraints have been placed before. The brunet rolls his eyes but leans in to the touch. Just the brush of fingers feels like gulping cool water after a drought. 

Jim sighs and pulls away. “Seriously, get to work.”

Sebastian stills. “But what about you?”

Jim rolls his eyes. “I'll take some of your clothes back with me.”

Sebastian swallows and plays with Jim's small hand. “How am I supposed to know you won't run?”

Jim stares at his toes and gives Sebastian's larger hand a firm squeeze. “Promise.”

Sebastian kneels up and scoots around to face the brunet. “Really promise?” he asks weightily.

Jim swallows. “Promise promise,” he agrees softly.

Sebastian nods, kisses Jim's cheek, and obeys Jim's whim.

Probably just as well the blond hadn't begged off on the job, because it's important enough that a spotter has been supplied.

In ordinary circumstances Sebastian would be pleased to see the short-haired, handsome Hindu. Instead he gives a weak smile and barely speaks to Babe.

The other man notices a marked difference in Sebastian's demeanour, but respects the blond's privacy. Sebastian feels a little guilty: he normally enjoys working with Babe, but instead he feels almost overwhelmingly frazzled.

It's taken so long just to get Jim to drop those defences for a moment. What the hell is the brat going to do to lash out about it?


	19. Scared

Sebastian expects the tension in the air when he returns to Jim's hotel room. 

The brunet is sitting uncomfortably at the writing desk. He flinches as Sebastian opens the door but does not turn around.

“Glad you're still here,” Sebastian states mildly.

Jim grunts and stares at his hands.

“Wonderful mood I see,” Sebastian comments and closes the door behind himself. Jim's head whips up and he glares warningly.

Blue eyes roll at him. “Tantrum time is it?”

Jim gives the blond a deadly, distrustful stare.

“Relax, will you?” Sebastian states coolly. He crosses towards the bed and drops onto it, keeping out of the other man's space. “It's only me.”

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Jim blurts. The words are out of his mouth before he can quite register them, but his breath is ragged as though he's been running for miles, not merely sitting in the same position for hours brooding.

Sebastian raises his brows. “You'll need to be more specific, love,” he responds in an edgy voice.

Jim narrows his eyes. “Why do you keep coming back?” he spits.

“Why'd you think?” Sebastian taps his chest, pointedly referring to the initials Jim had scarred over the broad blond's heart.

The smaller man's face twists. Sebastian barely has time to react before Jim is diving towards him.

Sebastian braces himself for an impact but does not move away. At the last moment he notices something glint in Jim's hand: a blade.

No.

 _The_ blade.

The blade Sebastian bought Jim for Christmas, engraved with Jim's initials, which Jim had used to engrave those same initials into Sebastian's chest. The blond is so surprised to see it that he is slow to respond, not able to move in time to disarm the smaller man.

Jim does not cut him. He merely holds the blade close and pants.

There's something especially off-kilter about Jim. His inflections when he eventually speaks are slower than usual; laboured.

“Why aren't you scared of me?” he whispers.

“Scared _for_ you, not of you,” Sebastian responds. Adrenaline bursts through him but he is oddly calm. His vision is sharper than usual as he eyes Jim and the knife.

The metal pushes against Sebastian's skin a bit. He could probably move the thing, but he wants to see what Jim will do.

Dark eyes wash over the blond, looking strained and angry and upset.

“You should be afraid of me,” Jim declares eerily.

Sebastian tilts his chin. He meets Jim's manic eyes calmly. “Why?”

“Because y-you love me,” Jim whispers.

“So?” Sebastian prompts. He's torn between being hyperaware of the knife and not noticing it at all.

“It's so… fucking stupid, Seb,” Jim whimpers.

“Bloody isn't,” Sebastian grumbles.

The brunet shivers and draws the knife in a line along Sebastian's torso. “It is.”

“It's not,” the blond growls.

Jim presses the well-crafted metal into Sebastian's flesh just hard enough to make a white pressure mark and not break the skin more than a few layers. His touch is almost lazy now as he recognises Sebastian won't even push the knife away.

Jim stares intently at where his weapon creases the larger man's shirt. The obstructed view bothers Jim; he wants to see the colouration of Sebastian's skin.

Sebastian wants to see that too, but he keeps his breathing fairly even.

Jim grimaces again softly. “I'm a liability, Tiger.”

Sebastian leans close to the small brunet's ear, pushing against the sharp blade as he does. “Doesn't scare me,” the big man insists.

“It should,” Jim states.

“Try me,” Sebastian whispers.

Jim raises his gaze swiftly, scrutinising the handsome man's face. Sebastian stares back.

Jim drops his head uncomfortably, then trails the knife low, lightly grazing Sebastian's crotch then pushing much harder.

Sebastian's breath catches and he bites his lip. He's pretty sure Jim won't actually _harm_ him, but it's difficult to think lucidly thus threatened.

Jim moves his knife to teasingly stroke the delicate, lightly furred skin between Sebastian's naval and hips. Refusing to squirm, the large man's muscles tense temptingly.

Jim frowns and blinks away memories of _that_ part of Sebby's body twitching and clenching along with the rest.

Sebastian's tongue feels too big for his mouth.

Jim glances up again through shrouded eyes and eyes the metal under Sebastian's clothing. The blond shivers then tenses his hands as he tries to stay very, very still.

“Thought you weren't afraid of much?” Jim teases, stroking his Christmas present along Sebastian's skin. 

“Yeah, well perhaps a cold blade on my family jewels is what I call a bit much,” Sebastian responds breathily.

Jim considers. “You trust me, don't you?”

Sebastian meets his gaze intently. “Absolutely.”

“I could really hurt you,” Jim states.

“You could,” Sebastian agrees.

Jim frowns. “Why aren't you stopping me?”

“Because you might hurt me, but you'd never harm me,” Sebastian says evenly.

The armed brat closes his eyes for a moment. He should really cut Sebastian deeply to teach the sweet blond a lesson about trust.

But Jim can't. Not right now.

The brunet swallows. He should make Sebastian leave whilst the man can, but Jim _can't_ let him go.

Jim digs in increasingly hard, observing Sebastian's reaction.

“Fine,” Jim says.

Sebastian gives him a soft, somewhat heated look. “'Fine'?”

Jim nods, staring down at the knife disappearing at an awkward angle under Sebastian's waistband. A little part of him is tempted to cut the trousers away completely.

Keeping his hands where they are, Sebastian leans forwards and hovers just a breath away from Jim's lips. The brunet freezes for a moment then kisses the much missed mouth.

Sebastian keens at the addition of Jim's welcome to the sharp, threatening sting against his delicate parts.

Eventually Jim draws away but presses kisses along Sebastian's strong jaw.

“You… wanna stop just teasing with that thing?” the blond shudders.

Jim grins and bites Sebastian's neck, leaning up on his knees to push Sebastian against the headboard, then halts.

Feeling stupid, Jim shakes his head. “Not… I don't… not just yet. Okay?”

Sebastian blinks, but ignores his disappointment to instead cup Jim's face. “Whatever you need.”

Jim slides away awkwardly. He drops the toy down and steps off just a little. He's not the sort to be precious about sex, so why is his chest tight and his stomach fluttering?

Sebastian doesn't follow except with worryingly understanding eyes. “You alright?”

Jim hesitates, pondering, then nods slowly. “Sort of. I will be. Just… Just wait a bit, alright?”

“Wait forever if you want,” Sebastian reassures mildly. Jim's eyes flicker over his, then the short man nods sharply and grips his own elbows.

“...I know you would,” Jim states in a wobbling voice. He crosses to the chair and drops down in it weakly.

Sebastian respects the brunet's space for a while. Instead the blond gazes at the knife even as he adjusts his slightly sore skin. It's… comforting to look at, as though proof that Jim is not truly gone.

Sebastian trails his attention back to Jim's quiet, still frame. There's a strange sort of ache in Sebastian's chest that wishes Jim was at least bundled up in his dark onesie.

Then it would feel like home.

It feels dizzyingly relieving to be allowed near the little brunet again, but it doesn't quite feel right. Not yet.


	20. Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for blood? I mean, this isn't exactly new ground for the boys but it's somewhat graphic.

Jim sits for quite some time on the chair near the hotel room desk. He is silent, but Sebastian can tell the little brunet's mind is racing, so he respects the silence.

Eventually Jim looks up over the knees hugged to his slim chest. There's a question in his gaze but instead of allowing it past his lips, Jim slides down his legs and crosses to the foot of the bed.

“You alright?” Sebastian asks.

Jim tilts his head in an almost imperceptible nod. He clambers onto a corner of the mattress under the blond's soft gaze. Jim picks up the discarded knife and handles it like a comfort blanket.

Sebastian watches him fondly. The former whore might be a proper little criminal now, but Sebastian mostly feels protectiveness as he watches the brunet.

“Would you..? Can we..?” Jim struggles to get the words out so instead raises the blade slightly. He squirms. “But without...”

“You want to play with me without it leading to sex?” Sebastian surmises patiently.

Jim colours a little and wills himself to regain his usual deathly pallour. “Is… that okay?”

“Of course it's okay,” Sebastian answers. “Where do you want to hurt me?”

Jim considers. There's no way he's comfortable cutting near the love scars on Sebastian's chest, and around Seb's groin or thighs seems too leading.

“Can I mark up your back?” Jim asks.

“Anything you want,” Sebastian agrees with an easiness he doesn't quite feel. He bares his chest and settles on his stomach.

Jim eyes him skeptically. “You shouldn't let me do just anything I want.”

Sebastian crosses his muscular arms and rests his chin upon them. “I like it when you're happy.”

Jim runs his touch over his initials on the blade, drawing comfort from them. “Who says I'm happy?”

Sebastian glances around. “Happier than if I was pushing you around?”

Jim shrugs. “Might stop me thinking for a bit.” He glances up quickly. “But not… not right now.”

Sebastian watches him with strange eyes then stretches a little. “Like I said, Kitten, whatever you need.”

Despite the large, sharp knife in his hand, Jim lightly smacks Sebastian's side. “Less of that. For now.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Make me.”

Jim rolls his own eyes back and straddles the blond's lower back. “You think you'll keep that brave mouth for long?”

Sebastian snorts and rests his cheek against his arms. “Not the way you cut me, no.”

“Clever boy,” Jim teases. He trails the sharp knife edge thoughtfully over the broad back, choosing where to begin. Partly he's teasing, but he's also waiting for…

Bingo. Right there, that little shiver. Sebastian's so active his muscles are usually all varying stages of tender; it's just a matter of finding where he's most sensitive on that particular day.

Although he does have certain pressure points. But Jim will move on to them in time.

“Shall I start here?” Jim purrs.

Sebastian groans softly. “I don't fucking care just cut me...”

Jim chuckles softly. “Always so _fucking_ eager. Maybe I shouldn't.”

The blond growls and bites the firm flesh of his own bent arm. “I think you should. Please,” he grumbles.

Jim grins, trailing his nails and the knife down Sebastian's strong, scarred skin. Jim likes the scars. Some of them can really take some rough handling, whilst others are incredibly sensitive.

The fine, blond hairs on Sebastian's back are starting to raise in anticipation.

“Alright,” Jim agrees. “Since I like you.”

“Good to know,” Sebastian responds, then hisses, because Jim apparently isn't in the mood to be gentle when he makes the first cut.

Jim feigns a sympathetic noise. “You didn't forget how much this hurt, did you, love?”

“Shut up and give me more,” Sebastian mumbles.

Jim smiles and obeys.

Sebastian's fingers tremble softly, but he keeps his back mostly steady. A willing canvas.

Jim calmly paints him in white and pink and red lines, sweeping and hatching together in no discernible pattern. He normally likes to write his name, initials, or other suitable markings, but he's feeling a bit… vulnerable still. It's enough just to bleed Seb without writing anything too telling.

Sebastian squirms a little under Jim and his skillful knife. The movement makes the broken skin near his groin rub against his clothing and sting. The blond tries to stay still, but it's sort of teasing, and the pressure of Jim's weight behind the blade feels… fuck...

Sebastian closes his eyes. He's starting to feel dizzy: the rising levels of endorphins and euphoria making him lightheaded.

It's been a while since he's felt any relief, and he hasn't exactly been looking after himself of late, so it doesn't surprise Sebastian that the sensations are fuzzing up his head swifter than normally.

Jim seems to be enjoying himself, if the way the blade moves is any indication. He's always been a feral little thing, but Sebastian's feeling a bit too wobbly to look around. Must have been hungrier than he thought.

Jim hums a little as he plays. It's a familiar comfort to Sebastian, but he hasn't quite worked out the logic to the tunes yet. The brat seems to have eclectic tastes in music.

Sebastian opens his eyes and looks around at the poor hotel lighting. He feels floaty and sore and electric.

Jim drags the knife deeper, enjoying how it makes Seb's shoulders buck.

Sebastian presses his eyes closed again for a moment. He's starting to feel trembly. He should probably ask Jim to pause soon.

Jim traces over fresh wounds, deepening them and playing a little with the blood. Tracing it out in spirals as though using a quill… it's a pretty sight. Especially as Sebastian's back rises and falls, pain and natural relief showing in the movement.

Sebastian grimaces, his face hidden from Jim's view. He's starting to feel pretty shaky, and kind of cold, and a little sick. His body's decided to redistribute his remaining blood from unnecessary things like his skin and stomach.

Jim pauses. He scrutinises the form below him thoughtfully.

Sebastian reacts in surprise to a hand pressing flat against his skin, but his reactions are sluggish.

Jim frowns. “Does that hurt?” 

“It's supposed to,” Sebastian answers carefully. 

“No, _really_ hurt,” Jim asks strictly. He can be quite intimidating, for such a young, little thing.

Sebastian presses his lips together, reluctantly meeting the suspicious brunet's dark eyes. It's damning.

Jim quickly gives Sebastian a few stinging spanks. “You _tell_ me if it gets too much, idiot.” 

Sebastian rolls over to his side, mindless of his blood rolling into the hotel sheets. “You sound worried.”

“Of course I'm...” Jim trails off and glares. He slaps Sebastian's thigh sharply enough to make the bigger man wince. “Why'd you let me take it too far, idiot?”

Sebastian's face crumples a little. “Wasn't too far, just further than normal.”

“Seb, I'm not punishing you.”

The blond looks up quickly. Jim rubs his face in his free hand, looking rather disgusted.

“Just wanted to feel you,” Sebastian says softly. “Miss feeling you claim my skin.”

Jim chuckles darkly. “Your skin's mine, you fucking twat. You can't be trusted with it.”

Sebastian smiles mildly. “Yeah?”

“Of fucking course it is,” Jim sighs. “Look, I know I'm not… Right. There are things. In my head. Okay. But that doesn't mean… Fuck, I don't want you to _hurt_ hurt, Tiger.”

Sebastian reaches over. “I don't mind...”

Jim makes a frustrated noise and spanks the larger man again. Hard. “We hurt each other when it's _fun_. Not when we're mad. That's not...”

“I honestly don't mind if it makes you feel better, Jim,” Sebastian says. “I'm a big, tough boy.”

Jim narrows his eyes. “The way I've been feeling recently I could fucking kill you. We're not playing like that.”

Sebastian decides to push his luck. “Why not?”

Jim kicks him a little, not quite with enough force to knock the blond off of the bed, but enough that Sebastian has to fumble quickly for balance. 

“You know why not,” the brunet admonishes.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Would still be nice to hear you say it.”

Jim sighs and licks absently at his bloodied knife. “You know it; that's enough,” he retorts.

“Fine,” Sebastian huffs mildly. He watches Jim's mouth for a while. “You know you could do that to _me_ , right?”

Jim fixes the larger man sternly under his gaze. “Bad boyfriends don't get rewards,” he scolds, then settles on the pillows and swipes his tongue up the flat of the blade.

Sebastian presses his lips together and watches intently. He's a bit deflated by the denial, but he's feeling dizzy again, this time with hope. Jim didn't just call him a bad _boy_ but a bad _boyfriend_. That's something he can work with.

Jim shifts over as Sebastian crawls up beside him. He runs his small hand over the short blond hair. “You're getting blood everywhere,” he chides.

Sebastian shrugs and leans into the contact. “Clean sheets at home.”

Jim's hand stills. “I'm not going home.” 

“Oh,” Sebastian says. “Fine. Room service, then.”

Jim resumes petting at the larger man. “Stop talking, Sebby.” He pauses. “We should probably order you something to eat. You're fucking bleeding everywhere.”

“Didn't know you cared… Ow!” Sebastian winces as Jim smacks him yet again.

“Don't get clever,” the brunet warns. “Menu's over there beside the phone. On you go.”

“You could have brought them to me,” Sebastian pouts, pulling himself up slowly and wading over.

Jim examines his reflection in the knife. “Wouldn't want you to turn into a spoiled brat, Tiger.”

Sebastian turns around and fondly bursts out laughing.


	21. Earful

Sebastian is woken by a hand covering his nose and mouth. He bolts upright, his back burning and bloodied sheets ripping from his skin. What the fuck?

Jim takes his small hand away calmly. “I let you sleep in after last night but Christ, Seb, it's time to get up.”

Sebastian stares at the little brunet, collecting his memories, and glances to the window to judge the level of daylight.

“...You hungry?” the blond asks at last.

Jim shakes his head.

“Good.” Sebastian wriggles over, swoops a huge arm around the brunet, and pulls him in close. Jim tries to shift away, but Sebastian's still almost three times his size.

“Get off before you crush me, you lump,” Jim complains.

“No,” Sebastian says bluntly. He's starting to wake up and realises this isn't his greatest idea, but fuck it. “Missed you.”

Jim freezes for a moment then recommences his struggle. “I know that. But it's time to get up.”

“I don't want to,” Sebastian states petulantly.

Jim flicks the blond in the forehead. “I don't care. You're disgusting; you're going to take a shower. Then we're going for brunch.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes then twists to look at his scabbing back. “Romance is gone when you don't find my cuts pretty...”

Jim goes white for a moment then strikes Sebastian hard across the face. “I wasn't talking about your back. You need to shave,” the brunet snarls.

Sebastian swallows, tensing his jaw as he rolls it. “Don't do that,” he warns coolly.

Jim curls his lip. “Thought you liked it rough?”

“When we're both into it, yeah,” Sebastian growls. A mark blooms across his face. "Not-"

The brunet sneers. “You're always up for anything from me. It's almost pathetic…”

Sebastian raises his brows and gives an unimpressed nod. “Is that right, Jimmy?”

Jim ignores his inner alarm bells. He squares his chest at the bigger man. “Don't. Fucking. Call. Me. That.”

Sebastian snorts mirthlessly. “Or what, you'll slap me again?”

“Why, are you already desperate for another?” Jim drawls. “You're so fucking worthless, Sebast-”

The huge blond bursts forward and pins Jim to the bed, snatching up the brat's wrists and pressing close. Sebastian growls, “Last warning: that's _enough_.”

“Get off of me,” Jim retorts sharply.

“Enough, I said!” Sebastian barks.

Jim freezes, looking startled. He's not used to being spoken to that way from Seb.

“Better,” Sebastian states in a milder, yet still stern, voice before Jim can say anything. The blond is conscious that giving Jim time to reply is merely giving the insecure brat rope to hang himself with.

“ _Please_ get off of me?” the brunet asks slowly, frowning.

“Not until you calm down and have a think about how you're talking to me,” Sebastian responds.

Jim looks away quickly. The big blond waits for a bit then comments, “It was just a joke. We do that. Used to, anyway.”

Jim is silent, thoughts visibly whirring behind his eyes before he turns away. “Wasn't funny,” he mutters.

“Evidently,” Sebastian mutters. “Next time, say _that_ instead of being a prick.”

Jim's eyes narrow further. “I'm not a-”

“No, you started acting like a prick because I hurt your feelings. I'm sorry. Stop being a prick,” Sebastian says intently, squeezing Jim's wrists softly.

The brunet turns away again. “You didn't hurt my feelings,” he lies in a low growl.

“Mm, well on the off-chance that I did, I'm sorry,” Sebastian repeats, bumping his face softly against Jim's skull.

Jim looks up warily. He sighs. “I'm not good at this.”

Sebastian plays with Jim's hair delicately. “I know, but you can't keep lashing out at me or pushing me away every time you want to, okay?”

“...It's not that I _want_ to,” Jim sighs.

Sebastian presses his nose against Jim's until the brunet meets his gaze. “You don't have to be so defensive all the time. I'm not going to hurt you.”

Jim sighs. “You make me weak,” he complains.

“You make my _knees_ weak,” Sebastian teases.

Jim huffs softly, trying not to be amused. “That's not really relevant, Tiger.”

Sebastian smiles and softly nuzzles the pale throat beneath him. “I'll protect you. You know that. And you're a tough little thing anyway.”

Jim's lips quirk. “Oh, I'm tough, am I?”

“I'm three times your size but you can have me on the floor begging with a snap of your fingers, can't you?” Sebastian teases.

“Is that difficult?” Jim snorts.

Sebastian pouts and retaliates by rubbing his stubble into Jim's shoulder. The brunet grunts then chuckles, pushing at Sebastian's forehead ineffectively. 

Sebastian grins.

“Tiger, I'll make you sleep on the floor tonight. Quit it,” Jim scolds.

“I'd be happy sleeping in a basket so long as I was near you,” the blond responds calmly.

Jim rolls his eyes. “I don't think you'd fit. We'd have to put you on a diet.”

Sebastian's head shoots up quickly, making the brunet smirk fondly. “A diet?” Sebastian responds in an aghast voice. “I'm not fat… this is _muscle_.”

Jim's eyes sparkle cruelly. “Is it? You eat an awful lot of takeaways...”

The blond looks appalled. “You _like_ my body.”

The smaller man grins wickedly. “Do I? You've lost a lot of muscle mass recently. I like my men _buff_.”

Sebastian stares. He knows Jim actually has a point about his recent shrinkage…

Jim chokes out laughing at Sebastian's expression. “Tiger, you're too funny. I'm only joking with you.”

The blond glowers. “Starting today I'm working out again,” he grumbles.

“I do like to see you work up a sweat,” Jim purrs.

Sebastian bites his lip. “Don't tease.”

Jim leans up and whispers in the bigger man's ear, “Get on the floor.”

Sebastian cannot quite hate himself for bolting off of the bed and immediately obeying. He positions his large hands flat in front of him and waits. His insides tingle, and he feels ridiculous for being so excited about something so ordinary.

Jim follows, stepping closer then pushing a foot into Sebastian's cut back. The blond grins and pushes up against the resistance.

“Missed this?” Jim asks as he watches Sebastian exercise.

“Missed you on my back more,” the blond grunts.

Jim blinks. “You look sore.”

“Worth it,” Sebastian declares.

Jim rolls his eyes then lies back to bloodied back against the larger man. The brunet grins after a few minutes. “You're struggling more than usual...”

“Yeah, well, been doing nothing but drinking myself into a stupor for the past few days, haven't I?” Sebastian grumbles.

Jim taps the blond's bottom with his foot. “You won't be doing that again, will you?”

Sebastian smiles softly at the touch. “I'll be good if you keep me.”

Jim half turns his head. “I don't think I could do otherwise if I tried.”

Sebastian stills.

Jim pats the blond's side. “Don't get soppy. Keep going.”

“Yes boss,” Sebastian murmurs.

Jim squeezes the bigger man's flesh softly. Sebastian stumbles a little, exhausted, when Jim finally permits him to shower, but he's thrilled by the proud look on the brunet's face. That's definitely worth the pain. Sebastian's still grinning when he returns with a damp towel. They both know he's not smiling from exercise endorphins.

Sebastian flops down on the bed beside Jim. “Am I worthy of a kiss, Your Majesty?”

The brunet smirks and pulls Seb forwards by the ears. “Let me see your back,” the brunet whispers afterwards.

Sebastian whines at the end of the kiss, but turns obediently. Jim disappears off of the bed and fetches a bag that Sebastian does not recognise, but understands to be a first aid kit.

“Going to look after me?” the big blond murmurs.

Jim smiles behind Sebastian's broad back. “Shut up.”

“Haven't you missed my voice?” Sebastian teases.

Jim rakes his short nails down the blond's contusions. “Enough,” Jim warns over Sebastian's pained hiss.

Sebastian chuckles and nods, rolling his shoulders as Jim gets started. He can feel the little man's breath on the back of his neck and smells alcohol before it stings his skin. It's a comfortable intimacy.

Jim flinches as his phone vibrates on the varnished bedside furniture. It makes a noise that seems extremely loud in a room otherwise wholly filled with Sebastian's soft breathing, the sound of ripping medical tape, and the wet lap of Jim's tongue over his own dry lips.

Sebastian turns, feeling odd. “Work?”

“Mm,” Jim agrees, wiping his hands. “Can't spend all my days tangled up in you I'm afraid.”

Sebastian snorts. “I'd happily let you.”

Jim arches his brows as he reaches for the phone. “I'm not your kept pet, Tiger.”

“Shame, Kitten,” Sebastian rumbles fondly.

Jim narrows his eyes, not truly cross, then checks the screen. He chuckles oddly. 

Sebastian raises his brows. “What?”

Jim does not answer, raising a finger to ward off conversation whilst he scrolls through information. “You do close protection?” the brunet asks instead. 

Sebastian nods, one brow raising. “Yes..?”

Jim continues, “Apparently you've to play my protector whilst I take on a job.” He wears an odd expression that he tries to rearrange into nonchalance.

“What job?” Sebastian asks, stretching carefully. 

Jim is quiet for a moment. “A messy one.”

“Do we have time to swing by the flat?” Sebastian asks. He wants to arm himself properly if he is to protect his most valued treasure.

“Mm,” Jim agrees, sounding distracted but glancing up with a warm expression.

“I'll get dressed,” Sebastian says quickly, getting off of the bed. He slows as Jim approaches.

The brunet pats Sebastian's bottom. “Don't push yourself, alright?”

Sebastian feels a rush of affection but smirks in response. “Don't worry love: I've worked in far worse conditions than this.”

“That doesn't reassure me,” Jim grumbles.

“I mean I'm resilient, not careless,” Sebastian drawls, pushing himself into Jim's touch. The brunet squeezes a small hand firmly around the offered flesh.

“Get dressed,” Jim chides warmly.

Sebastian bites his lip. “You know, if I'd just went to bed with you instead of going to the Club, none of the mess with Adair would have happened. We-”

Jim frowns and brings his hand down firmly. “You'd be in far worse trouble pissing off your employer; trust me.”

Sebastian turns, giving Jim a searching look. “What does that mean?”

Jim shrugs. “It's not like we work for nice people, is it?”

Sebastian watches him for a beat longer. “Sounded as if there was more to it than that.”

Jim's gaze flickers but he shakes his head. “Get dressed.”

Sebastian hesitates, then presses his lips together as he moves to obey.

“Sebby?” Jim says quietly.

The big blond turns instantly.

“It… It's mostly been bad without you,” Jim says. “But not all of it.”

“What was the good part?” Sebastian asks.

Jim's expression tightens. “I can't call it 'good' but… I'm glad about it.”

Sebastian nods, curious but knowing not to push.

“Come on,” Jim says quickly, turning away. Sebastian finishes and follows, grabbing his hotel key.

“What are we walking into?” the blond asks when they reach his armoury.

Jim looks uneasy. He opens his mouth to reply but Sebastian gives him a stern look. “I'm not going to like this, am I?”

“...No, but I'm perfectly capable,” Jim answers mildly.

Sebastian narrows his eyes. “What are you going to be doing whilst I'm covering you?”

Jim swallows. “What I'm good at.”

Sebastian tries not to pale, but Jim's most commercial skills are fucking and killing. Being cute doesn't pay the rent in their business.

Jim looks away. “Just trust me, alright?” he mutters.

“Even though you can't look me in the eyes?” Sebastian presses.

“Yeah,” Jim says.

Sebastian sighs, crossing over and giving Jim's bony hip a reassuring squeeze. “Fine. But if you give me a heart attack you're getting a spanking the moment we get home.”

Jim gives a flicker of a smile. “Lucky we're not going home then.”

Sebastian taps Jim's bottom warningly then gathers his equipment.

The big blond is far from impressed to discover what Jim's job actually is. He watches in frustrated disbelief as the brat saunters up to some bigger criminal, goads him, and then…

Holy fuck.

Sebastian cringes at the horrified, primal scream and watches Jim spit red. The brunet gets the other criminal on the ground, kicking and kicking and kicking with vicious ferocity. 

Sebastian approaches gingerly and indicates a spot on the curled body.

“If you slam your weight here you'll kill him,” Sebastian suggests croakily. He's a little freaked out, even though he has seem something harsh within Jim before. 

“I know, but where's the fun if I can't drag it out?” Jim drawls back darkly.

Sebastian watches him for a beat. Then suggests, “Get your boot just under that nub of bone. It'll hurt like hell.”

Jim looks up and flashes Sebastian a distorted look of affectation. It makes the blond's insides twist.

Afterwards, Sebastian drags Jim into an alleyway, pushing the brat hard against a wall. Jim chuckles, eyes dilated.

“Why Sebby, do you want to lick the blood from my shoes?”

The blond keens, surprised at himself, but drops to his knees anyway. Jim tugs at his skull and he raises his blue eyes questioningly.

“His blood could be dirty,” Jim reminds Sebastian. The blond concedes and reaches for Jim's fly instead.

Jim pushes him away. “Not yet.”

He drops down, straddling the bigger man's lap. Sebastian smiles as Jim pushes a fierce tongue into his mouth. All they do is kiss and allow their hands to roam each other, but eventually they are both breathing hard and feeling dazed.

“I can't believe you bit off his ear,” Sebastian says.

Jim's lips curl. “It's a very effective way to make a bigger man forget my size.”

Sebastian snorts. “You keep away from mine, you fucking feral beast.”

Jim's mouth spreads into a reddish grin. He dives for the shell of Sebastian's ear and sucks playfully.


	22. Mummy Issues

Jim continues to grow in his criminal role, whatever the hell it is. People look at them funny, and it absolutely disconcerts Sebastian. ...It's kind of hot as well, because Jim is an intriguingly dark little puzzle, and Sebastian feels a heat in his stomach every time Jim gives a dangerous peer a haughty glare that has the other person close to wetting themselves… But mostly it's just weird. A little concerning. Also very, very sexy.

Deeply confusing.

Jim is invited in as a consultant for a notorious ring of mobsters. Sebastian is bemused by it.He expects to be terrified for his little brunet, but Jim commands the room and is spoken to with respect.

Sebastian does not know how to process that.

The clients actually question Moran's presence; Jim explains the blond was removed from prison for being the best at what he does.

He doesn't even smirk playfully at Sebastian about that until they are back in the hotel.

“What's it like being the second most dangerous man in London?” Jim teases. 

Sebastian blows air from his cheeks. “You tell me, Number One.”

Jim nods in a considering manner. He doesn't smirk or say anything ambitious, but Sebastian feels an intriguing chill. He has the feeling he is watching something important. Jim's power is spreading, and Sebastian can tell it won't simply stop at London.

The pair attend the event Jim has orchestrated for the mobsters in a working capacity. Jim looks fucking suave in another new, expensive suit, and Sebastian promises himself that he's at least going to get a kiss from the handsome little mindfuck afterwards. So long as he doesn't get distracted by Jim until they're both safely back in the hotel room.

Jim gives Sebastian a knowing look and glides amongst the throng of people. Sebastian hangs back, allowing them to appear to separate so that Jim can work less conspicuously, under Sebastian's watchful gaze.

Jim concentrates on doing what he is paid for; overseeing what he has orchestrated. It should all run smoothly without his intervention, but it's best to hover over something of such magnitude. The Crocodile does not suffer failure gladly, and neither do the criminals paying her. 

Someone Jim recognises as the Crocodile's staff sidles up to him smoothly.

Jim raises his brows questioningly. It better not be a damned problem. “What is it?”

“Your mother wants a word,” the waitress murmurs.

Jim's jaw tenses. “My mother.” He supposes the Crocodile has a sense of humour. He surveys their surroundings, judging the situation, then follows. He makes eye contact with Sebastian across the room.

The blue eyes follow Jim, making the slight man feel oddly safe.

Jim is led off to a quieter area of the party, secluded by the particular architecture. He almost startles as Mrs Moran steps into sight from around a pillar and pinches his cheek.

“Dear me. The rumours _are_ true then,” she drawls.

Jim swallows but does not immediately step back. There is something about Sebastian's mother's harsh, interested presence that makes him want to curl into her.

Mrs Moran fixes Jim with a stern look that makes his stomach twist. “I was rather worried about you,” she scolds.

The short man forgets to school his expression for a moment. Surprise spreads openly across his features. “What for?”

Mrs Moran drops her hand from Jim's cheek and he has a mere moment to mourn its loss before she pats his bottom warningly. Heat rushes uncontrollably to his face as he blinks at her in naked confusion.

“What sort of question is that, young man?” Mrs Moran chides, making Jim feel lost and oddly pleased. “When I heard you had disappeared I could have boxed both of your ears!”

Jim bows his head. He's not used to this sort of attention at all. “Why?”

Mrs Moran snatches his wrist and pulls Jim towards her as she leans in to reprimand him further. “ _Anything_ could have happened to you, you little fool.”

Jim swallows. “I-”

“Don't you dare give me excuses, James, I was worried _sick_ ,” Mrs Moran snarls. “I know what to expect when Bastian has a wobble, but you? Disappearing without a word? I have raised four boys, young man, so do not think for a minute I won't put you over my knee if you _ever_ give me a fright like that again!”

Jim blanches. He's never been spoken to thus in his life, and he's a little terrified. But he likes it.

Mrs Moran nods approvingly as the young man holds his tongue in stunned silence. “I had people out looking for you,” she continues in slightly calmer tones. Jim looks up quickly. She fixes him with a frank look. “You can _imagine_ my surprise when I went to a friend for help only to discover you were… acquainted.”

Jim freezes.

Mrs Moran 'absently' brushes at the eye a mutual 'acquaintance' has tattooed. “Yes, I do know that you are both working for her.”

“Oh,” is all Jim can think to say. He's been feeling rather cocky about work recently, and he feels like he's just been taught a lesson about feeling comfortable.

Mrs Moran purses her lips. “I cannot say that I am thrilled, but you have a brain in your thoughtless head, and she'll certainly make you use it.”

Jim swallows. He wants to ask how she knows the Crocodile, but he's uncertain how to ask.

Mrs Moran tuts and kisses Jim's temple. “I am relieved that you are well, however questionable your choices. Try not to lead Sebastian on too much of a merry dance; he can court trouble well enough without the encouragement.”

“You don't think I'm the trouble?” Jim asks reluctantly, his voice subdued.

“James, child...” Mrs Moran shakes her head and takes both of his small hands. “You might not be an angel, but none of us are. You are just the right sort of trouble, my nimble-minded little guttersnipe.”

Jim swallows. He wants to throw himself into the thin woman's chest, but his feet remain rooted to the floor out of habit and fear.

Mrs Moran clucks and takes his chin in her hand. “The next time you find yourself in trouble I had best be the _first_ to hear about it, understood?” she warns.

Jim swallows, still disconcerted, but drinking in the touch. He's frightened to let Sebastian pet him too affectionately, but Jim is so starved and the bony fingers gripping his jaw feel like being wanted.

“Young man?” Mrs Moran prompts.

His shoulders rise meekly. “Yes, ma'am. Understood.”

Mrs Moran drops his chin and actually does swat his bottom. “Jim?”

The brunet flinches in surprise and absolutely not pleased embarrassment. There really is not a warm, wanted feeling spreading through his chest in response to being so blatantly claimed. “M'sorry. What?” he lilts mildly.

“You are my future son-in-law; you ought address me as 'Mummy' not 'ma'am',” Mrs Moran corrects.

Jim blushes scarlet. “I...”

Mrs Moran rolls her eyes. “Oh, I know you and my naughty blond have some kinks to work out, but we know what is inevitable. Do not be coy.”

Jim nods softly.

Mrs Moran observes him. “Oh pet, you are not alright at all; are you?”

Jim presses his lips together and quickly shakes his head. He's surprised when the brittle woman pulls him tightly against her thin frame, but God, he's so grateful.

“Talk to me, James,” Mrs Moran commands.

Jim shakes his head vehemently. “Can't.”

Mrs Moran holds him tightly. “Hush, Jim; I have you. You are fine.”

Jim sniffs quickly. “Oh God,” he whispers.

Mrs Moran crushes him to her. “Shh, now. It is all going to be perfectly fine.”

“M'sorry,” Jim blurts, his entire frame tight with tension.

“Come on now, do not let anyone see you upset,” Mrs Moran rebukes gently.

Jim nods emphatically and tries to pull away, but the woman keeps him flush to her.

“You are going to be fine,” she says firmly in his ear.

Jim swallows. “Promise?” he says almost inaudibly.

“On my seal,” Mrs Moran agrees. “Now, take a deep breath.”

Jim does, shuddering slightly. Mrs Moran pulls back marginally to meet his embarrassed gaze but does not let go. She watches him breathe until she is convinced Jim has calmed, then rubs his upper arms and steps a small distance away.

Jim stares at the ostentatious ceiling for a few beats. “Thank you,” he says gruffly.

“You are family,” Mrs Moran says firmly. “Now, gather your thoughts then get back to work, James.”

“Yes, M… Miss,” Jim mutters. “Miz.”

Mrs Moran rolls her eyes. “Try 'Mother'.”

Jim squirms and keeps his eyes downcast. “...Thank you.”

She nods patiently. “Jim, pet?”

“Yes, M… Yes?” he mumbles.

“I am quite serious,” Mrs Moran says with a firm pat of his cheekbone. “Worry this old woman again and I _will_ discipline you like you were one of my own.”

“Thank you,” Jim says quietly.

Mrs Moran gives his cheek another, more tender pat. “Good boy, now get back to the party.”

Jim nods and turns to go.

“And James?” she says.

“Yes, ma'am?” 

Mrs Moran arches a brow at him.

Jim colours slightly. “Sorry. What is it?”

“Give me a call every so often so I know how you are, yes?” she orders.

Jim swallows. “I will.”

“Good boy.” Mrs Moran walks on past, smirking at Sebastian when she reaches him.

Sebastian was mildly surprised to see his mother, and has been feeling very odd throughout the entire interaction, although he has been unable to hear much of it. His words die in his throat as his mother meets his gaze. 

“Honestly, working for a living, Sebastian?” she chides with a curled lip. “Your father would be ashamed of you.” 

The blond gives her a sour look. “Surely that's what I live for?” 

She gives a deadly smile and leans forward to kiss his cheek. “It is part of your charm, child of mine.”

Sebastian blinks, but the exasperating woman has melted into the crowd before he can form a response.

“Are you alright?” he asks Jim gruffly.

Jim gives a dazed nod.

“What did you say to you?” Sebastian asks.

Jim glances at the blond, but shakes his head. “Stuff,” he dismisses. Sebastian squeezes his shoulder.

“C'mon… let's get back to work before things blow up in our faces,” Jim states. Sebastian follows.  
Work actually goes smoothly, for which they are both grateful.

“How does she know our employer?” Jim asks Sebastian afterwards.

“She what?” Sebastian stops walking. He does not have to ask who 'she' is. Swallowing, he responds, “I have absolutely no idea.”

Jim lets them into his hotel room. He pulls over a pillow from the bed and clutches it to his chest. “I like your mum.”

Sebastian sits down and makes a face. “Why?”

Jim doesn't know how to explain, so he shrugs awkwardly. “I just do.”

“No one ever likes my mum,” Sebastian says. “They're usually terrified of her.”

Jim smirks weakly. “Maybe I'm special,” he jokes.

Sebastian looks at the brunet for a beat longer than Jim is comfortable with. “Yeah,” the bigger man says, “I reckon you are.”


	23. I Love You

Sebastian is pretending to be asleep because Jim is half sprawled against him in the hotel bed. So far the brunet tends to pull away in the mornings, and Sebastian wants to drag out the comforting contact for as long as possible.

Jim's work phone lights up and Sebastian sighs.

“Get that for me, will you?” Jim murmurs.

Sebastian freezes. The little man's awake but hasn't moved away?

Sebastian tries not to draw any attention to that, absolutely keeping a beaming smile from his face as he reaches for the phone. It's still weird when Jim has work and Sebastian doesn't.

The blond tenses as he reads the message and fear constricts his airway.

Jim notices Sebastian's change in manner and looks up quickly. “What's wrong?” he demands.

Sebastian barely registers Jim's concern for him. “I… Look, I'll do this one, okay?”

Jim frowns and sits up. “What the hell are you talking about? Let me see that.”

Sebastian makes an uneasy noise and moves the phone out of Jim's reach. “Honestly, I'll do it.”

Dark eyes narrow. “Basher, I told you to do something.”

Sebastian flinches softly but shakes his head and keeps the phone out of reach. Jim growls and hits the larger man. “I'm not joking around,” the brunet snaps.

Sebastian swallows. “It's not a nice job, alright? I'm happy to do it.”

Jim sits back on his heels. “I don't do 'nice jobs' Sebastian.”

“Yeah, but these are particularly bad people, alright?” the blond mutters.

Jim sighs. “Oh honestly. I'm not a doll; I can handle myself. Let me see.”

Sebastian gives the other man a look. “I didn't say you couldn't handle yourself.”

Jim regards him. “Then what's your problem?”

“You shouldn't have to mix with monsters like these. I can handle them for you,” Sebastian responds.

Jim swallows. He's not used to that.

Still. “Let me see, Sebastian.”

The bigger man sighs, but reluctantly hands over the phone. Jim stares at the screen then looks up incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“What?” Sebastian mutters.

“I dealt with this lot a bunch when you were inside. They're nothing,” Jim sneers.

Sebastian feels his stomach twist. “They're _horrible_.”

“Yes, but not the kind that should worry you,” Jim scoffs. He stares at Sebastian's concerned face for a beat. The discomfort on it does not recede. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I don't want you to go at all,” Sebastian grumbles.

Jim rolls his eyes. “They're nothing, stop worrying. I'll go myself or you can shadow me; what's it to be?”

“Going with you, obviously,” Sebastian pouts. “But you're better than this.”

Jim snorts and pats the larger man's face. He tries to make the touch patronising, but the way Sebastian's gaze softens makes Jim know the attempt is not entirely successful.

Jim drops his attention to the text again. “Go get washed. I'll get ready after you.”

Sebastian puts his hand on Jim's shoulder. “Didn't sleep well?”

Jim raises his eyes with a smirk. “I'm tired, Seb, not sick. Relax and go shower. You smell like you need one.”

“I do not,” Sebastian grumbles, but he gets out of bed anyway.

Jim curls back under the duvet properly and closes his eyes. He tries to sleep, but Sebastian's assertion that he, Jim, is too good to mix with certain criminals, with anyone at all really, plays on the little man's mind.

Sebastian's biased obviously. Isn't he?

Jim squeezes his eyes shut and listens to the running water. Eventually it switches off and the little brunet sighs, pulling himself up and out of the bed. Sebastian leaves the bathroom but Jim stops him with a light spank.

“Brush your teeth you heathen.”

Sebastian looks at him in surprise and laughs. There was once a time when he had to all but carry a sleepy Jim to the sink for bedtime teeth brushing. The big man cannot help but kiss Jim's neck then follow the smaller man into the bathroom. Jim says nothing in response, but there's a comfortable atmosphere as the brunet showers. Sebastian smiles around his toothbrush.

There are lots of flowers in the room Jim's meeting takes place in. Sebastian's already uneasy in such company, but he feels a chill as one of the criminals explains who is responsible for a hit on one of their men. Jim suggested that hit, now Sebastian thinks about it.

The brunet gives Sebastian a quick, amused look, pleased the big lump has the sense not to let the colour drain from his handsome face.

Jim rolls his head and straightens his cuffs. “So you want revenge?” he says.

“Of course,” spits one of the gangsters, and Sebastian realises they have no idea Jim is involved.

Jim examines his nails calmly. “Success is always a good way to exact it.”

“That's why we asked for you,” another criminal declares.

Jim inclines his head. “I'm aware. A sensible decision.”

“So you'll help us?” 

Jim glances up. “Can you afford it?”

The gangster in charge pulls out a phone and makes a show of transferring money. Jim nods. “Alright boys. Let's get down to business, shall we?”

Sebastian is uncertain whether to laugh or cry by the time Jim saunters out of the building. “You had my heart in my mouth the whole damned time, you _fuck_ ,” the blond complains.

Jim raises a brow. “I need to get my excitement somewhere, don't I?”

“You implied about… what, sixteen times? That you'd...” Sebastian trails off, looking over his shoulder. “Fine, they don't do subtlety, but if they'd pieced together...”

“You don't have to join me in future, Basher...” Jim warns.

“Like I'm fucking leaving you alone ever again when I know you could run your mouth off like that,” Sebastian mutters.

“I'm not helpless,” Jim says a little sharply.

“Yeah, you're not stupid either,” the blond argues. “That was _reckless_.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “It keeps me alert … which is otherwise difficult, considering the tedium.”

“Bored is better than dead!” Sebastian snaps.

“Maybe to you,” Jim sneers.

The bigger man pauses and gives him a cool, disapproving look.

Jim sighs and plays with his cufflinks. “Oh don't. I managed to survive perfectly well when you were… otherwise occupied.”

“I _said_ I'm sorry that-”

“Not looking for an apology about it,” Jim responds. “I'm saying that I am _perfectly capable_ -”

“Of getting yourself into trouble? Yeah, I saw that,” Sebastian retorts.

Jim sighs, gives the blond a look, and climbs the hotel steps. “If you don't want to watch don't come.”

“Of course I'm going to fucking come now where else would I be?” Sebastian mutters, following after Jim crossly.

The little brunet waves his hands jerkily. “Oh I don't know, Seb, maybe drinking yourself into the gutter or shooting some-”

“Arty, don't go there,” Sebastian warns.

Jim pauses and looks back at him. “Why not? You're so quick to judge _my_ choices aren't you?”

Sebastian sighs and crosses his arms. “You know that's not true. I've always got your back.”

Jim's gaze wavers and he slams the elevator button. “Sure you do. We'll see how long it takes before our employer replaces you with someone more effective, yeah?”

Sebastian freezes for a beat and has to slap the closing door to follow Jim. “The fuck did you just say?”

“Well you obviously don't enjoy working with me and I'm fucking _good_ at what I do,” Jim hisses.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Oh great, so now you're better than me,” he mutters.

“Damn fucking right I am,” Jim spits, pushing the bigger man hard. “Who the fuck cares what you think?”

The blond growls and moves Jim's hands away pointedly. “Evidently you do, or you wouldn't be having another tantrum.”

“And now we're back to my being childish, because obviously everything's my fucking fault,” Jim snarls, storming from the lift. “Why do you even bother to follow me?”

Sebastian tries to keep his temper. “Well apart from the one actually obvious reason, Jim, I'm worried that after the way you spoke today someone will figure things out and come after you.”

“It's not your job to care about what happens after,” Jim snaps.

“You're not a fucking job!” Sebastian retorts.

Jim curls his lip and pushes Sebastian again. “You think you're anything more than a colleague to me? I don't give a fuck about what you think. I do my job. I'm _good_ at my job.”

“You're also a cocky fucking-”

“And so what? Do you see the idiots I'm working with?” Jim snarls. “Fuck knows I spend enough time with you on the clock.”

“Don't go there...” Sebastian warns.

Jim sneers and pushes the unresisting larger man against the corridor wall. “Why? Haven't you heard what they're saying about me? Don't tell me you wouldn't drop to your knees if-”

Sebastian slaps Jim, hard. “You might be king out there, but you're _not_ the boss in here.” 

Jim smiles despite himself, oddly relieved, but he doesn't have time to dwell on the feeling as Sebastian is fumbling with their door. The heavily breathing big blond pushes Jim inside forcefully.

Jim stumbles, but Sebastian catches him. Firmly, but not roughly like Jim expects. He looks up, his face throbbing, expecting a rebuttal for the baiting words, but…

Sebastian's blue eyes are burning with an intensity that makes the brunet quiver.

Suddenly they're tearing at Jim's clothes, and Sebastian fingers seem to be mapping his smaller body. The brunet has still got that scar on his shoulder, and the back of his skull, and along his arms and his torso and it's him it's him it's him.

“I'm sorry,” Jim blurts.

Sebastian closes the door behind them. “Don't care. Shut up. Naked.”

Jim nods quickly and pushes down his boxers.

Sebastian grins and picks Jim up under the thighs, pushing the smaller man against the wall to kiss along Jim's chest. The brunet pulls him tight, growling softly.

Sebastian eyes Jim's erection heatedly. “Maybe we should see if I can suck that smartarsedness right outta that mouth of yours...”

Jim yanks the blond's hair hard. “I don't care whether you gag me as long as you're touching me, Tiger.”

Sebastian shifts his hold, pushing Jim higher so he can crush the brat to the wall and grasp the weeping cock between them. “Gladly.”

Jim hisses and somehow manages to buck his hips in the tight confinement. “Yes… Touch me. Please, just… touch me...”

Sebastian grazes his short stubble against Jim's skin as he moves his arm rhythmically. “What do you think I'm doing?”

“E-Everything I want you to...” Jim mutters, his head rolling back even as he grips Sebastian's ear and shoulder so hard his little knuckles whiten.

Sebastian snickers, teasing the head of Jim's cock with a calloused thumb. “Don't I always?”

Jim keens and arches away from the wall into Sebastian's grip. “Ngh… sometimes I want to slap you, but… fuck… you can be a good boy, for me...”

Sebastian laughs and returns to stroking Jim fiercely. “I'm always a good boy, you prick. _You're_ the one who'd benefit from a good slapping on the back of your legs...”

Jim bites his lip. “I never said you couldn't...”

The blond makes a face. “You've barely wanted kissed recently, I'm not gonna...”

Jim frowns and snatches Sebastian's slowing arm. “I _did not_ tell you to stop.”

Sebastian hesitates, the fog of lust in his gaze receding. “Are you sure? You… You haven't wanted to recently...”

Jim blinks. Stares. Considers. “Please, Seb. I...” Jim breaks off and grabs Sebastian tightly. “I need you,” he admits with difficulty. “I need this. _Us_.”

The blond tightens his grip on Jim's shaft. “You don't have to say that,” Sebastian says quietly. “If you just need… this… that's okay. Just tell me.”

Jim's expression flickers then he pushes at Sebastian's arms and hops down from the wall. The brunet stands stiff-backed and agitated, not turning to face Sebastian. “Fuck you, Seb.”

The big blond feels a surge of exasperation and regret. “What?”

Jim yanks at the dark hair near the coffee table scar on the back of his skull and mutters, “You think I could fuck you without feeling a thing? _You_?”

Sebastian swallows. “I didn't say that.”

Jim whirls around. “That is exactly what you said. _Fuck. You!_ ”

“That's not...” Sebastian sighs. “I meant you don't have to feel pressured that doing anything together means we're okay again. I meant that if you just wanted comfort, without leading me on or anything… that would be okay.”

Jim clenches his fists, eyes flashing emotively. “You don't have a fucking clue how I feel about you, do you?” he snarls.

Sebastian breathes deeply. “Then tell me.”

Jim shakes his head sharply.

Concerned, the big blond steps closer and reaches out. “Arty?”

Jim backs away quickly and starts to... cry. Sebastian freezes and asks if he's alright. 

The brunet shakes his head, wiping his cheeks with the heels of his palms frustratedly. “I needed you,” Jim replies. 

Sebastian starts to apologise but Jim stops him. “No, I needed you like _this_. I missed you so much.”

The blond looks down at the small hand wrapping in his shirt pulling him close. Sebastian picks Jim up and closes his eyes with relief when the smaller man curls his thighs over Sebastian's hips. “I've got you. I'm not going _anywhere_ ,” the blond promises.

Jim drapes himself over Sebastian's neck, still sniffling. “That's not the _point_. I already _know_ that.”

“Then what, babe?” Sebastian asks.

Jim grinds a little against Sebastian's shirt. “I don't want this distance between us anymore. I want us back, Sebby.”

Sebastian presses gentle kisses over Jim's bare neck, shoulders, and the back of the brunet scalp. “Tell me what you need to make it better.”

“I need _you_ , you idiot,” Jim sniffs.

“I'm right here,” Sebastian reassures. “What else?”

“I want us together, properly. I need… I need to feel more of you,” Jim admits.

Sebastian nods, strokes the smaller man's back, and carries Jim to the bed. “We can do that. You want me to hold you? Suck you?”

Jim pulls back to look at Sebastian. “I want us to fuck. Please.”

The blond nods and pulls away just a little to start unbuttoning his shirt. “You want me on my back or facing away from you?”

Jim shakes his head and puts a hand on Sebastian's wrist. “I want you on top of me. In me. I… I _miss you_.”

Sebastian cups Jim's face. “Are you sure?”

Helplessly Jim leans up on his knees and captures Sebastian's mouth with his own. The little brunet tries to channel all his love, need and desire into the kiss.

Sebastian's arms wrap around him. “Alright,” he breathlessly agrees when Jim nervously pulls away. “I believe you, brat, I believe you.”

Jim presses his forehead up against the blond's. “I love you.”

Sebastian rains down a hundred quick kisses over the smaller man's exposed skin. Jim smiles softly at first, then giggles and wriggles when Sebastian does not stop. The bigger man grins and pins Jim to the duvet, sucking coloured marks onto the twisting body.

“Tell me I'm yours,” Jim mumbles.

Sebastian looks up quickly, blue eyes wide, then reaches for Jim's hands. Holding them in his own, Sebastian promises, “You're mine, sweetheart. I love you.”

Sudden tears leak from Jim's eyes. “I love you too. I'm sorry...”

Sebastian pulls the small man from the bed up onto his lap. “Hey, hey, you don't need to apologise. You're okay Arty, you're okay...”

Jim dives forwards and wraps his arms around Sebastian's broad neck. “I do; I'm a brat. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me Seb; I'll be better… I – I swear...”

Sebastian blinks before crushing Jim to his chest. “Don't be _fucking stupid_. I'd never leave you, especially not for… for being fucking _human_.”

“You should; I deserve it,” Jim whispers. “I push everyone away...”

Sebastian frowns and squeezes the brunet's pale bottom firmly. “ _Fuck_ everyone else. _You are mine_ and I love you and I will _never_ let you get away from me. You are my whole life, Jim Moriarty.”

Jim starts to cry rawly, clinging desperately to Sebastian's neck. “Please don't hurt me, Seb. I couldn't bear it, I… Fuck. Promise me that… That you won't...”

The big blond feels his heart swell and break. “You silly little bastard,” he scolds softly, kissing Jim's neck. “I'd honestly rather die than hurt you.”

Jim sniffs. “You're not allowed to die,” he commands.

Sebastian chuckles. “Okay, I'll try my best, love. You have to stick around as well, alright? I need my snuggly little ball of chaos to give me something to live for.”

Jim wipes his face. “I'm not cuddly. Snuggly. Not.”

“Oh okay then: _I'm_ cuddly and you just put up with it for me. How's that?” Sebastian responds.

Jim rubs the blond scalp. “Fine.”

Sebastian turns his face and gives the brunet's wet cheek a kiss. “You alright?”

Jim nuzzles in needfully. “Course.”

Sebastian laughs gently and squeezes the bottom he holds. “Little prick.”

Jim glances up through wet lashes. “Your little prick.”

Sebastian brushes his abs against Jim's groin. “You're not that little.”

Jim chuckles wetly. “Can we..?”

Sebastian strokes him affectionately. “Is that what you want? Are you up for it?”

“I'm not fragile,” Jim grumbles.

“Of course you're not, crybaby,” Sebastian teases.

Jim gives him a dark look. “You've got two minutes to get stripped and get your fingers in me or you're going to be very sorry, Sebastian...”

The blond swallows. “Sorry.” He quickly slides off of the bed and removes the rest of his clothes. “Where's your lube?”

Jim looks away. “There isn't any. You're going to have to use spit.”

Sebastian raises his brows. “You love shoving your fingers in your arse. Where's the lube, Jim?”

The brunet rolls his eyes and spreads his thighs. “I haven't been in the mood lately. Get on with it.”

“I swear if you're lying...” Sebastian mutters. He squeezes Jim's thigh. “Why not?”

Jim tilts his chin, looking awkward. “It's not the same when you're not there, or even thinking about me doing it, okay?”

Sebastian grins. “Seriously?”

Jim glares. “Shut up.”

The blond smirks and lies down between Jim's legs. “You're so fucking sentimental.”

“You wanna get choked?” Jim warns.

“Yeah, but wait until I've got you wide open,” Sebastian teases.

Jim glares, but he looks a lot happier once the blond spits into a large hand.

“You sure about this?” Sebastian asks gently.

“I'm not a fucking virgin,” Jim grumbles. “I'll spread myself dry if you don't get on with it.”

Sebastian bites Jim's hip. “You'll do no such fucking thing.”

Jim gasps, biting his lip and he grasps Sebastian's scalp lightly. The blond grins and wriggles lower, licking a broad stripe down Jim's balls and perineum.

“Good boy,” Jim whispers.

Sebastian chuckles, his breath hot against Jim's damp skin, and works lower still. Soon he is lapping and sucking the smaller man's hole, teasing it very gently with a wet finger. 

Jim moans and squirms, hooking a leg over Sebastian's neck. “You're always so good at this.”

Sebastian glances up in mild surprise, his finger not stilling. “I am?”

Jim's breath hitches at his lover's hot breath against his sensitive skin. “Obviously.”

“Hmm. Good to know,” Sebastian teases, then goes back to licking and teasing Jim's entrance.

“Prick,” the brunet mutters.

“Don't be greedy,” Sebastian purrs, crooking his finger and twisting it within. Jim howls in pleased surprise.

Sebastian blinks. “That doesn't normally get such a reaction?”

“What part of 'it's been a while' are you not getting?” Jim retorts, blushing.

Sebastian grins and continues playing with the little man's bum. Eventually he works up to another finger, then another, feeling utterly captivated by Jim's flushed look of approval and the moans that leave his parted, reddened lips.

Sebastian eases in a final finger. “I love you,” he whispers.

Jim smiles. “Love you too. Love when you touch me.”

“Touch you all day if you want me to,” Sebastian promises, rocking his wrist expertly.

“Every day?” Jim asks.

“You might get sore,” Sebastian jokes. “And we'd get poor. But I'll happily fuck you more than is reasonable.”

Jim grins and pets the bigger man. “I want you inside me now. Please.”

Sebastian grazes Jim's prostate a little more vigorously than usual. “What do you call this?”

“Foreplay,” Jim gasps, eyes dilated and voice quavering. “Need your dick.”

Sebastian gives the brunet's sternum a quick kiss and eases out gently. “It belongs to you, I believe you told me.”

Jim grins. “It does. So bring me _my_ dick, and shove it in me. I want you to fuck me.”

Sebastian leans up for a sloppy kiss. “The mouth on you,” he mutters fondly, reaching down to guide himself.

“I'll put it all over you,” Jim promises.

Sebastian smiles softly and hovers at the smaller man's entrance. “Love you.”

Jim beams a little shyly, his hair stuck to his sweaty face. “I love you too.”

Sebastian pushes in slowly, his breath catching at the tight heat. Jim draws his thighs up quickly, grimacing a little, but gives an open smile at his blond's look of concern.

“You're a big boy,” Jim reminds him in a breathy mutter.

“Sorry,” Sebastian whispers.

Jim curls his arms around the broad body above him. “Don't be. I love you exactly as you are.”

Sebastian grins and nuzzles Jim's neck. “You're such a soppy little twerp today.”

Jim pouts and twists to bite a large shoulder. Sebastian laughs, the sensation shaking his whole body and making the brunet's hips quiver.

Sebastian gives him another kiss and thrusts shallowly. “You okay?”

“Perfect,” Jim says softly. “I've missed you.”

Sebastian drops to his elbows in order to cup the smaller man's face. “I've missed you too, love.”

Jim kisses Seb's palm and wraps his legs around the bigger man's back. “Fuck me.”

Sebastian smiles and rocks his hips torturously slowly, sliding in _deep_ then drawing almost all the way out. Pushing back in teasingly.

Jim's breath comes in shuddery gasps. “You're so cruel.”

Sebastian smirks fondly. “You love me.”

“I do,” Jim agrees, tossing his head back against the pillows and letting his eyes roll. “You feel amazing.”

His blond snorts softly. “I assure you, sweetheart, you do too.”

Jim grins and brushes Sebastian's face. “Just for you. I'm yours, Seb.”

The bigger man's gaze flickers and he pushes in deep to swallow the moans that Jim fills their kiss with.

Jim breaks away and chuckles. “Do you love me?”

“Love you more than living,” Sebastian murmurs. His eyes sparkle. “Going to get 'KITTEN' tattooed to my ring finger.”

Jim purses his lips and drags his short nails over the initials scarred over Sebastian's chest. “You'll wear me here and like it, fucker.”

“Oh I love it,” Sebastian assures him in a genuine, warm voice. “Wouldn't trade those for the world.”

Jim smirks. “I thought I was your world?”

Sebastian grins back, meeting the teasing brown gaze as he pulls out slowly before pushing back in firmly. Jim gasps. Sebastian smirks, “My _whole_ world.”

Jim bucks his hips up uncontrollably. “Forever and ever?” he teases.

“Mm, going to wife you and give you babies,” Sebastian chuckles.

Jim rolls his eyes. “You're so gay.”

“I'm going to make you cum for me then you can tell me who's gay,” Sebastian responds.

“I'm definitely your gay,” Jim mumbles, melting into the thrusts.

Sebastian laughs softly and presses a kiss into the side of Jim's face. “I know. Going to have to get you in a collar so the whole world knows though.”

Jim snorts. “You've got a better chance of putting a ring on it, bitch boy.”

Sebastian's eyes sparkle. “Fuck yes. Put you in some white stockings and a little blue garter belt. Make you _mine_.”

“I'm _yours_ already and hate to break it to you, Tiger, but _you'd_ be the fag in a dress,” Jim murmurs.

“I'd look damn good in that dress,” Sebastian retorts, reaching down to stroke Jim in time with his thrusts. Jim gasps loudly and bucks up into the touch.

“Or you could just stay here… and never get dressed again… just do that all day...” Jim whimpers.

Sebastian laughs. “Like that, do you?”

“You're gonna kill me,” Jim mumbles. “I feel magic in my _toes_.”

Sebastian drops to Jim's shoulder, his own shaking with mirth. “Do you _hear_ yourself, love?”

“I'm unrepentant,” Jim mutters into Sebastian's hot skin. “Keep that hand moving.”

“Like I could deny you anything,” Seb purrs.

Jim curls into the contact. “I'm close, you know...”

Sebastian smiles. “I can tell. That's why I'm giving you a pass for what you just said.”

Jim rolls his eyes in amusement, his hips bucking uncontrollably. “You're the idiot who loves me.”

Sebastian meets Jim's eyes intensely and his smile spreads even wider. “Yeah, sweetheart; that's true.”

“Tell me,” Jim whispers, canting up into Sebastian's touch. “I'm so close...”

“Tell you what, Kitten?”

“That you love me,” Jim gasps. “Want to hear you… Fuck...”

“You soppy bitch,” Sebastian chuckles, although his insides do a little flip that suggest he might be soppier. “Of course I love you. I love you forever, you little prick.”

“Don't stop,” Jim whimpers, his fingers curling tight around Sebastian.

The big blond rains down quick kisses and affirmations. “Jim-boy, I love you, _I love you_ , I love you...”

Jim keens, suddenly panting up with a tangled tongue desperate to form Sebastian's name. He wants to shout, uncertain why, and he freezes, rigid for a moment, before pleasure makes him arch his back uncontrollably.

“I love you, Arty, I love you...”

Jim's hearing seems to flood out for a moment but he focuses on the words as his vision tunnels. His breath seizes in his lungs as everything goes black at the edges and then he can suddenly get his tongue moving.

“ **SEBASTIAN**!!!!!!!!!!” he screams.

The blond flinches at the sudden pain in his ear but twists and kisses Jim passionately. “I love you,” Sebastian continues to whisper devoutly, leaning close as he snaps his own hips faster, following Jim over the edge with an almost pained groan of need.

Jim reaches up and pulls Sebastian down just as the bigger man feels ready to slump dazedly. Jim kisses Sebastian hard then lies back against the pillows. The little brunet's expression is shocked, incredulous, as tears of love streak down his face.

Sebastian sleepily kisses Jim's cheek. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Tiger,” Jim whispers. “I fucking love you.”


	24. Point System

Jim is drooling in his sleep. Sebastian can feel the liquid dripping down the chords of his neck and racing down his shoulder to pool in the damp pillow beneath him. Jim's elbow is twisted up into Sebastian's inner arm where it is certainly going to leave a bruise. Jim's hair is also tickling Sebastian's nose, and the brunet's weight is an uncomfortable pressure on Sebastian's bladder.

Sebastian lies back and hopes the smaller man sleeps late.

Of course the brat defies him even in unconsciousness. Jim shifts with a soft grunt and Sebastian groans quietly as he finally gets his arm back. Bloody thing aches, and Sebastian flexes his fingers to encourage the unpleasant prickling of returning bloodflow.

Jim wriggles some more and stretches, coming dangerously close to crushing Sebastian's unprotected genitals. The bigger man presses his lips together and eases the half-asleep Jim into a safer position.

“Sebby?” Jim mumbles.

“Morning, trouble,” the blond responds.

Jim stretches with a moan and pushes himself up into a sitting position on Sebastian's chest. “Mm, good morning.”

Sebastian puts out a hand to steady the smaller man's back but keeps the hold light. “How are you doing?”

Jim sways his head as he considers. “I'm feeling it, but I'm not _sore_. You were fairly gentle until the end.”

Sebastian purses his lips and rubs a thumb in circles over the dimples near Jim's spine. “Wasn't what I was asking.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “I'm aware, but I was ignoring you.”

Sebastian sighs, still petting the smaller man affectionately. “How helpful.”

“Maybe I want to bask for a bit before you start picking my head apart,” Jim retorts wryly. He takes Sebastian's free hand and kisses the flattened knuckles.

Sebastian squeezes his hand around Jim's. “Basking. Am I the rock in this analogy?”

Jim gnaws Sebastian's hand gently in warning. “You enjoy being beneath me, before you make any wisecracks about baby seals or mermaids or anything else uncomplimentary.”

“Oh as if I would dare backchat the boss,” Sebastian comments.

Jim winces. “Sorry about that. I shouldn't have said what I did yesterday.”

Sebastian shrugs. “You were just trying to push me away again, right?”

Jim nods and presses his chin against the bigger man's large hand. “Yeah; lashing out. Not good at taking criticism. 'Specially the type that's from a place of concern about me. Still.”

Sebastian hums in acknowledgement. “I probably shouldn't have hit you.”

Jim grins. “'Probably'?”

“Poor self control on my part, but you seemed to like it,” Sebastian responds.

Jim waggles his brows. “You're sexy when you're angry.” The brunet smirks as Sebastian presses his lips together, before continuing warily, “It's not just that, Seb: I appreciate that you don't just take my shit. However cocky I'm acting, I am grateful when you challenge me.”

Sebastian nods and squeezes Jim's bottom. “I've got your back, brat, even if sometimes that means I need to redden this backside.”

Jim chuckles softly. “Recreationally included in that statement?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Since I love you,” he agrees, feigning a long suffering voice.

Jim smiles and flops back down on the big blond's chest, burrowing in. “I love you too.”

“I'm still waiting on the 'but',” Sebastian retorts.

Jim rolls to his side and looks up. “I'm tired of trying to fight it and keep you away. So I'm going to try not to have another 'wobble' because… I want this. Us. I'd rather have us, with… the risks… than not have you at all because I'm afraid.”

Sebastian pulls Jim close. “You don't have anything to be afraid of. You've got me. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” Jim mutters.

“I promise,” Sebastian smiles. He kisses the dark stubble on Jim's face and feels pleasure when a slow smile spreads there.

“Can we just lie here for a while?” Jim asks.

“Hardly going to kick you out of bed,” Sebastian teases. He strokes Jim's scalp soothingly, feeling warm and content when Jim makes an undeniable purring noise and wriggles closer. They lie together happily, comfortable in each other's company. Sebastian kisses Jim's head.

The smaller man smiles and twists around to graze his fingertips over Sebastian's cheek lovingly. “Missed you.”

The blond smiles and kisses Jim's fingers. “Mm, you said.”

Jim snuggles in. “Meant it.”

“Good. Try that pushing me away nonsense ever again and you're grounded,” Sebastian warns playfully.

Jim smiles softly. “I'd like being grounded with you. I'd cuddle up in my onesie and make you feed me.”

Sebastian chortles fondly. “Of course you would. Are you hungry now, love?”

Jim considers. “Pastries. I'd like Danish pastries, with jam and icing.”

The bigger man nods and kisses Jim's nose. “Alright. Let's get washed and I'll take you for breakfast, okay?”

The brunet nods and playfully curls closer around Sebastian. The bigger man chuckles. “Oh, are we not getting up yet?”

Jim smirks into Sebastian's neck. “Oh, _you're_ getting up, but you're going to carry me.”

Sebastian laughs warmly and wraps his arms around the smaller man. “Limpet.” He lifts Jim out of the hotel bed.

“I'm not clingy; I'm lazy,” the brunet mumbles.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Neither of us believe that.”

Jim pouts and bites Sebastian gently. The blond smiles and shifts Jim's weight so he can swat the brat lightly.

Jim yelps softly and leans up. Capturing Sebastian's earlobe, he sucks on it affectionately.

The bigger man groans. “Sweetheart, that's not going to get you fed any quicker.”

Jim smiles against Sebastian's skin. “Why not?”

The blond gives him a sidelong look. “Because, brat, we both know that's going to get you fucked up against the tiles.”

Jim tugs the shell of Sebastian's ear with eager teeth. “Well, we need to work up an appetite, right?”

Sebastian growls softly. “Kitten...”

“Yes Sebby?” Jim smirks brightly, breathing teasingly against the man's wet ear.

“I hope you're not too sore because I'm going to bugger you hard,” Sebastian states.

Jim's eyes light up and he groans appreciatively as Sebastian pushes him against the bathroom wall. “Fuck, I've missed this.”

Sebastian smirks. “Our sex life? Or the grout pattern on your skin?”

Jim snorts and flicks on the showerhead, snickering unrepentantly as Sebastian is sprayed with cold water. The big blond splutters and glares balefully at the smaller man.

Jim dips his gaze, lips still pursed in amusement, and reaches out a palm to the spray. “It's getting warmer,” he says hopefully.

“Your ass'll get warmer if I tan it,” Sebastian growls, pressing into the smaller man and marking Jim's neck with his teeth. The brunet giggles and pushes into the contact.

“As long as you're touching me I don't care how rough it gets, Tiger,” Jim smiles.

Sebastian reaches for Jim's bodywash. “Oh I'm gonna touch you alright, love.”

Jim watches Sebastian open the bottle with interest. “Fuck,” he whispers enthusiastically.

The big blond mouths Jim's shoulders affectionately. “That's the plan, shortarse.”

“Get on with it,” Jim whines.

Sebastian rolls his eyes and pulls the brunet onto his thigh. Jim grins and reaches up to wrap his arms around the bigger man's shoulders. He moans encouragingly and licks Sebastian's wet chest as the big blond's fingers trail lower.

Sebastian kisses Jim's temple softly then dips his head to bite the smaller man's bottom lip firmly. Jim groans and kisses back, listening to the pop of the cap and pushing back shortly after against Sebastian's slick hand.

“How rough do you want it, sweetheart?” the big man asks huskily. He strokes Jim's opening tauntingly.

Jim smirks and reaches up to curl his fingers around Sebastian's lower neck, dipping his thumb into the dimple of Seb's collarbone. The blond swallows tightly and heatedly meets Jim's gaze. “Right. Gotcha.”

Jim raises his brows encouragingly.

Sebastian works his fingers in one by one with a bit of force and a lot of shower gel. Jim makes a drawn out guttural noise in response and bites the blond's broad chest.

Sebastian growls encouragingly. He pours out more bodywash but Jim catches his gaze, presses his thumb down a little harder, and with his free hand takes the gel from Sebastian's cupped palm. The big man hisses as Jim coats his hard dick, squeezes, then lowers himself onto it forcefully.

Sebastian wraps his big hands over Jim's hips. The dark eyes which fix on his own make his legs feel weak in a way not even that little hand curling around his throat does.

“Get lower,” Jim orders. “I don't want you crushing me when you cum.”

Sebastian laughs, the noise somewhat constricted by Jim's grasp, and folds onto his knees, the short man straddling his lap.

Jim's eyes burn and he brings his other hand back up to scratch down the scars on Sebastian's chest. The big man groans loudly.

Jim smirks. “Like that, Tiger?”

Sebastian thrusts up his hips sharply, smirking when Jim gasps. “You know I do.”

Jim growls and rolls his hips fiercely in vengeance, eyes glinting when Sebastian whimpers.

“Come now, Seb, it's hardly been that long,” Jim smirks. “Less than twelve hours...”

Sebastian squeezes his eyes closed and cants up into Jim's tight heat, “Yeah, but we both know you're a twisted little vixen, alright?”

Jim laughs playfully and moves his fingers, coiling them around the sides of Sebastian's broad neck. “Very. And you're all mine, aren't you?”

Sebastian feels further heat flood low in his torso. He nods stiffly at Jim and rolls his hips firmly, feeling gratified by the look of pleasure on the brunet's face. Jim squeezes tighter and leans forwards, kissing Sebastian's face as he pushes back against the big man's cock.

Sebastian makes a noise of approval, his hips racing upwards and his eyes fluttering closed.

Jim smiles, enjoying the tick of Sebastian's pulse under his fingers as he fucks himself on the bigger man's lap. “Seb, you're so loyal, aren't you? You'd do anything for me?”

Sebastian opens his blue eyes and fixes Jim with a suspicious look. “If you think you're going to edge me, brat...”

Jim chuckles and squeezes his hand until the bigger man chokes a little. “Darling, do you think me so cruel?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, feeling a little dizzy until Jim loosens his grip. The big man wraps an arm around Jim's bottom and pulls the smaller man close. “Would I be wrong?”

Jim snickers and rubs his cheek against Sebastian's. “In general? No. But I'm not going to edge you. Unless you ask me nicely, of course.”

Sebastian snorts and kisses Jim's nose. “Fuck that. What is it you want, brat?”

Jim smirks. “Can I..?” He bites his lip. “I want to see you painted in me.”

Sebastian blinks. “You little whore, I've missed you,” he chuckles.

A wry smile plays about Jim's wicked lips. “That a yes?”

Sebastian reaches down and grips Jim's prick, handling it roughly. “Of course it's a yes. Let's see, ten points for my chest, fifty for my face?”

Jim bites his lip. “Wh-What are the points for?”

Sebastian curls his head to whisper in the brunet's ear. “Sixty'll get you a blowjob when we get home...”

Jim grabs Sebastian's square jaw and kisses him fiercely. “Deal.”

The blond kisses back passionately, trying to match his arm movements to his thrusts despite Jim's renewed bucking.

Jim groans wantonly.

Sebastian grins, redoubling his efforts to make Jim fall apart. The little man all but dances in the blond's lap, dragging his short nails down the familiar broad shoulders.

Sebastian kisses the smaller man ferociously, feeling drunk on the noises Jim makes.

Suddenly the brunet rears back, gasping, and scrabbles at Sebastian's skin. “M'gonna...”

Sebastian quivers as the first warm jet stripes his chest and neck. Jim shudders further, reaching clumsily for the bigger man as his hot seed streaks Sebastian's face.

The blond smirks up at the smaller man and darts out his tongue to taste Jim's pleasure.

Jim closes his eyes with a sigh and bites his lip again. “Fuck, I've missed you, you handsome thing.”

Sebastian grins and takes some of the liquid in his fingers, wiping it down Jim's chest before licking it off. “Think how quickly you might have forgiven me if I'd known you just wanted to spray in my face.”

Jim laughs. “Ah, perhaps. I know what you want though.”

Sebastian looks up interestedly, blue eyes sparkling. “Oh?”

Jim smirks and returns his hand to the bigger man's throat before rolling his hips firmly.

Sebastian groans. “You… You might be right.”

“Of course I'm right,” Jim purrs, using just the pressure he knows the blond likes. Sebastian leans forward, pressing his forehead against Jim's as the smaller man rides him hard. It's dizzying, perfect, colour fading at the corners of his vision and Jim's heated gaze swimming in the fore. Euphoric… it's…

Sebastian's head feels heavy and light all at once and Jim's breath seems all consuming. Pleasure is directly connected to Jim dropping down on top of Sebastian's lap and that heavy pressure on his throat is…

Fuck…

Sebastian blacks out a little as he climaxes, Jim's forceful mouth mashing over his own the last thing he notices.

Sebastian comes back to himself slowly, dimly aware of the sound of running water and laboured breathing and wetness on his skin.

“Welcome back, Tiger,” Jim drawls. He draws his tongue in a broad swipe over the semen on Sebastian's chest. The big blond swallows and processes where the rest has gone, the stream of water down his shoulders not reaching his pecs.

Jim's eyes glitter mockingly.

Sebastian captures the smaller man's mouth and smirks at the taste. Jim's tongue fights him for dominance and the bigger man wraps a steadying arm around his brunet's lower back.

“Maybe we should fight more often,” the little brat purrs.

Sebastian leans over Jim and chuckles raggedly. “No way.” The water is still somehow running warm so he blindly reaches for Jim's bodywash again. “I guess we should clean you up.”

“You mean _you_ should clean _us_ up,” Jim corrects, stretching languidly as water streams down his hair and over his shoulders.

Sebastian rolls his eyes and sets about bathing his regal little tosser. “Lazy prick.”

“You love me,” Jim says contentedly.

Sebastian cannot help but smile and meet the brunet's dark eyes. “I do.”

Jim hums in approval and allows the bigger man to wash him tenderly. Sebastian sucks the wet neck before him and Jim smirks.

“Sebby, you promised you'd feed me. I need a Danish or three.”

Sebastian smiles and licks Jim's stubble. “No, you need _me_. Everything else is a whim.”

Jim's stomach protests and the brunet looks up with a smirk. “You were saying?”

The big blond dips and kisses Jim's grumbling stomach. “Like I'd ignore your whims.” Sebastian stands and cleans himself up briskly before pulling the smaller man back to his feet. He switches off the stream of water and holds Jim close whilst reaching for a large towel.

Jim turns in to face Sebastian's chest and inhales happily.

The blond smiles and dries them both down. Somehow he persuades himself to stop kissing Jim's exposed neck long enough for them both to brush their teeth.

They drift back through to the bedroom and Sebastian gives a nostalgic smile. “What do you want me to wear?”

Jim smiles. “Bet you didn't bring those tiny jeans, did you?” He nuzzles the big man for a moment then approaches Sebastian's clothes. The blond watches with an odd feeling in his stomach as Jim runs his small, pale fingers over the fabrics as though reacquainting himself.

“This.” Jim picks something up carefully and hands it over more tenderly than usual. Sebastian cannot help but smile at him.

He kisses the brat. “As you like.”

Jim raises his brows playfully. “I'd like you to stay naked but I don't think they'd serve you.”

Sebastian laughs. “I'm sorry to disappoint, sweetheart.”

“How will I ever forgive you?” Jim teases with sparkling eyes.

“I'm sure I'll have to keep trying for years,” Sebastian smiles, dressing calmly.

“And years and years,” Jim agrees. He pads over to pick out an outfit for himself.

Sebastian turns to look when he notices a dip in the atmosphere. “Jim?”

The brunet bites his lip, running his hand over his onesie. Pulling it to himself nervously he murmurs, “Tiger? I want to go home.” 

Sebastian feels his chest surge with relief and rushes towards the smaller man. “Pastries on the way, mo chroí?”

Jim's lips twitch and he gives the onesie an affectionate squeeze before pulling on a suit. “Perfect.”

Sebastian steps over and pulls the smaller man into a hug. “Yes. You are.”

Jim rolls his eyes and leans into the contact. “I'm a fucking catastrophe.”

“You're my _perfect_ catastrophe,” the blond answers.

Jim nods, treads away, and sweeps his belongings back into a suitcase. “Let's go.”

Sebastian presses his lips together and plucks out an unopened bottle of lubricant. Staring at Jim archly, the blond tries not to grin at the brat's twitching lips.

“Wanted to feel you,” Jim whines.

“Oh, you're gonna feel me alright, pet,” Sebastian responds, pulling the smaller man close. Jim squeals, laughing, as Sebastian bends him over a strong thigh and swats him.

“Ow, Sebby, you're not funny!” Jim giggles.

“I'm not _trying_ to be funny,” Sebastian states, emphasising each word with a light spank. “I'm going to take you home and teach you a lesson by using up that whole bottle in this pert little arse...”

Jim bites his lip, squirming a little as he turns to give Sebastian a heated look. “Do… Do you promise?”

The big blond smirks. “Let's get you fed, then we'll go home and you can find out.”

Jim dives up and captures Sebastian's mouth in a kiss. “But don't forget,” the brunet says breathlessly when he pulls away, “sixty points. You owe me a blowjob.”

Sebastian snorts. “Are we just going to cram all the sex we've missed into the next few days?”

Jim raises his nose imperiously. “Yes. Yes we are.”


	25. Predictability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still alive! Real life is kicking my butt a little atm but I'm trying to get my fics updated as promptly as I can. Hopefully this was worth the wait! I know I've got a bit of a backlog of messages atm (as with everywhere else) but they honestly do brighten my day. Working my way through replying to them!
> 
> Aaaaand back to our boys!

Jim seems vulnerable as they stand silently together in the lift. Sebastian can hardly blame the young man: the Mayfair apartment holds difficult memories for them both.

They were so exquisitely happy here. Once.

Both Jim and Sebastian feel scarred by their attempts to wait out the emptiness of Conduit Street without their other.

The floor shakes a little beneath their feet, straightening both their spines with nerves even though both men bear roiling stomachs.

The metal doors slide open.

Jim's anxious face quickly settles into a frown and he turns to give Sebastian a disparaging look. “This place was immaculate when I left.”

Sebastian swallows then looks away in an embarrassed fashion. “You know I don't like being without you.”

“I heard you spent most of that time at the flat,” Jim comments, stepping bravely inside and trying to hide his nerves by scowling at glass bottles.

“I did,” Sebastian mutters. “Things can disintegrate fairly quickly.”

Jim looks up from the alcohol immediately.

“Not us,” Sebastian amends. “We're resilient.”

The brunet's gaze flickers. He nods briefly then jerks his head at the mess. “Come on, I'll help you clean up. We can hardly reacquaint ourselves in this filth.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian mumbles.

Jim's lips twitch. “I'm sure you'll think of ways to make it up to me.”

Sebastian meets Jim's eyes for a beat then smiles slowly. The dark orbs sparkle then Jim dips and starts gathering discarded bottles. Sebastian drops down their bags and begins to help.

“Wasn't exactly how I pictured this,” Jim teases.

Sebastian pulls out a roll of black bags and rips a few out efficiently. “I'm not complaining. My hands are shaking.”

Jim's eyes snap towards him. Sebastian's steady sniper hands, shaking? “Why?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. It's more his habit now than Arty's. “Pressure?”

“What pressure?”

Sebastian raises a thick brow. “Higher stakes than I'm used to.”

A glare crosses over Jim's features. “One, you gamble ever again and I'll _skin_ you. Two, I've made my decision about us. I won't let you fuck it up.”

Sebastian drops down the rubbish and strides over the array towards Jim. The brunet widens his eyes then smirks as Sebastian lifts him up swiftly and holds him close.

Jim kisses Sebastian fiercely and swipes clear the counter behind them. The bigger man hisses, shifting his weight, then leans his head in towards Jim's neck. “That's _more_ broken glass to clean up...”

Jim raises his brows. “You planning on spanking me for it? Because I'm pretty sure you started this mess.”

“You're right,” Sebastian murmurs. “You can give me a good belt whipping upstairs once I've changed our sheets.”

Jim leans back. “Is my bedroom in disarray, Tiger?”

Sebastian's stomach twists. “I missed you.”

Jim unfastens the big man's jacket. “I missed you too,” he confesses.

“I'm sorry,” Sebastian repeats.

“I know,” Jim responds. He softens. “I know,” he repeats soothingly.

Sebastian tugs Jim's shirt front out from a tailored waistband and presses his forehead against Jim's naval wordlessly. He stays quiet and Jim runs his hands comfortingly through the big man's short, blond hair.

“Hey, grow a pair,” Jim murmurs in a soft, loving voice.

Sebastian inhales deeply. “Fucking missed you. Missed _us_.”

Jim pets Sebastian some more. “I love you too, faggot. Look at me, Tiger.”

The bigger man breathes in Jim's scent some more then lifts his blue gaze uneasily.

Jim sighs and touches Sebastian's cheek. “Listen to me, you stupid prick. You're going to fuck me right here on this counter, then we're going to go upstairs. You're going to change the sheets, then I'm going to stripe you, then claim your arse.”

The blond gives a weak smile. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Jim declares. “Then when we need further sustenance I'm going to kick you out of bed to make my lunch. Understood?”

Sebastian's lips stretch further. “Yes, love.”

Jim nods approvingly. He twists his slight fists in Sebastian's clothing and pulls the bigger man down crushingly close.

Sebastian kisses a line from Jim's ear to the brunet's collarbone. “Lube's in with your stuff still...”

Jim grins, brings up a knee under the muscled blond's chest, and kicks Sebastian away playfully. “True, but we're in our kitchen. Be creative.”

Sebastian laughs, squeezes Jim's foot, then turns to the other work surface behind them to swipe up a bottle of oil.

The blond grimaces. “Chilis. Hell no.”

Jim cackles. “Good save. Try the cupboard to the left.”

“The lube is like thirty paces away...” Sebastian mutters, but he obediently snatches another condiment and tosses it down beside Jim.

The brunet grabs Sebastian's strong jaw. “Too far away,” Jim growls.

Sebastian jerks his head in swift agreement and kicks away the broken glass near his feet to get closer still to his little tormentor. Jim scrabbles at their shirt buttons impatiently, desperate to get as much skin contact as possible and swiftly. Sebastian removes Jim's shoes and throws them across the room before dragging off Jim's trousers.

Jim snickers and looks over his shoulder. “I'm not walking over all that glass in my socks.”

“I'll carry you upstairs,” Sebastian promises. “Later...”

Jim makes a noise of acceptance and drops back down onto his elbows. Sebastian mouths down his bare, scarred torso heatedly and the brunet moans. Grabbing Sebastian's skull firmly, Jim pushes that burning mouth lower.

Sebastian snatches roughly at the erection near his face and grins around the hot flesh as Jim moans gutturally. The small man writhes on the counter, pushing up wantonly into Sebastian's mouth. 

Bobbing his head attentively, Sebastian grasps for their makeshift lubricant and snaps it open. Jim groans louder at the noise and reaches down to spread his pale cheeks apart helpfully.

Sebastian continues to suck, fumbling lube into his hands and teasing Jim sloppily. The brunet bucks and squirms, noticing only belatedly that he is making Sebastian's job more difficult. Jim pants and tries to still his hips, but it's hard, so fucking hard, and Sebastian's mouth is so skilled and wet, and… ouch, oh fuck, oh fuck yes, oh fuck…

The bigger man raises his gaze to Jim whilst easing a second thick finger in slowly, twisting teasingly to trigger that bunch of nerves that makes Jim whimper. The Irishman's socked feet kick out for purchase on anything as he squirms uncontrollably. Sebastian's mouth continues to torment him blissfully and Jim is reduced to a panting, keening, pleading mess as Sebastian carefully works in a third finger.

“Dick...” Jim gasps moments later as he acclimatises to the further stretch. “Gimme your dick, Seb….”

The bigger man pulls back and scoffs. “You're going to cum first, pet.”

“Don't call me that,” Jim protests weakly, but Sebastian is already snatching up his bright, leaking prick again and that sinful swirl of tongue… Fuck…

Jim is quite undone by the time he spills with an overwhelmed squeal down Sebastian's throat. The big blond smirks and refuses to step back, his fingers still pounding Jim's prostate and tongue still abusing Jim's oversensitive, spent prick.

“Enough, enough, enough,” Jim mumbles desperately.

Sebastian rises his brows and continues calmly. No safeword; no release. And he knows Jim loves being tormented like this.

The brunet keens and scratches his short nails down Sebastian's broad back.

Sebastian grins wickedly and takes pity, letting go and moving up to take a rough, salty kiss. Jim wraps his arms close around the back of the big man's neck.

“ _Now_ I'm gonna fuck you,” Sebastian promises. He holds gaze with Jim's blown eyes and reaches down to lube himself up further.

Jim is a stammering mess as Sebastian pulls out slick fingers and pushes in thick, burning heat. “F-F-F-Fuck y-you're so h- _hard_...” 

Sebastian's face twitches in amusement. “Difficult to be anything else with this sweet little hole begging for me to fuck it...”

“I-I-I'm not _sweet_ ,” Jim mumbles. He rolls his hips weakly, face flushed prettily as he tries to drag Sebastian even closer. He tries to get the enormous man to move, but Sebastian just stays tauntingly still, taking in Jim's perfect, wanton state.

“Goddamn, you're beautiful,” the blond states.

Jim tries to focus on the blond. “F-Fuck me,” he grumbles.

Sebastian grins and rolls his hips mockingly. “Like this?”

“Harder,” Jim demands.

The big blond feigns ignorance and cants up slowly into Jim. 

“H-Harder!” Jim moans. “ _Harder_...”

A flash of wicked teeth signals the moment Sebastian relents and an instant later Jim is spluttering, grabbing onto the big man's neck for dear life as Sebastian hammers harshly into him.

“D...Damn… _Fuck_...” Jim whispers.

Sebastian chuckles and grasps the countertop hard, slamming into Jim harshly. The smaller man's thighs twist encouragingly around the broad, hot torso, a stream of grunts and pants spilling from Jim's parted lips.

“Did you… miss me… sweetheart?” Sebastian asks smugly.

“Fuck, yes...” Jim keens. He grabs the blond closer by the ears, kissing the blond's scruffy stubble desperately.

Sebastian continues thrusting at that brutal speed, and Jim does not expect the big man to last long like this, but he does, and Jim follows Sebastian's gaze down between them. Jim's hard again and Sebastian's eyes glitter conspiratorially.

“You… gonna cum… for me... again… Kitten?” the blond smirks.

Fuck…

Jim falls back against the counter, fingers still wrapped around the shells of Sebastian's ears. “Yes...” the smaller man agrees.

Sebastian's face is all mischief and lust. He nips seductively at Jim's neck over and over, his strong arms boxing Jim in.

Jim succumbs willingly. Sebastian's sweat smells comfortingly familiar despite the hotel's body wash and _nothing_ feels so utterly right as having his lover so perfectly close. Sebastian's body is all power: the last sort of man Jim would once have chosen to give himself to.

Yet there's no threat in Sebastian's bulk. Even pounding Jim's pelvis to dust as he is, the big brute is still careful. The arms pressed against Jim's shoulders are tense from ensuring Jim does not get crushed under the rough handling. The fierce hips forcing Sebastian into Jim's opening are measured in their ferocity. 

And even if Jim was blind to those subtle tells it is impossible to mistake the care in Sebastian's eyes as the huge man gazes down at Jim.

“I love you,” the brunet blurts.

Sebastian's expression of concentration breaks into a sunny smile. He presses a kiss into Jim's jaw, his lips tasting of sweat and semen as the brunet trails his tongue towards them.

“Love… you… too,” Sebastian grunts when Jim eventually draws back. His broad shoulders shine with exertion and Jim mouths them contentedly.

Sebastian pulls his calloused hands away from the edge of the countertop and draws them closer to Jim. The brunet moans breathily as Sebastian drops to his elbows and cups the smaller ribs just under Jim's arms.

Sebastian rolls his hips carefully.

Jim rocks his head back and makes a drawn out, guttural noise. Eyelids flickering, Jim trails his fingers weakly from Sebastian's ears to the burning heat of the big man's neck.

“That… feel good… Kitten?” Sebastian confirms affectionately.

“Gonna… brand you...” Jim mumbles dazedly. “Never… let you… leave...”

Sebastian chuckles softly. “Okay with… me… but let me… get you… off, first...”

Jim closes his eyes and giggles as he curls his toes. “Feels amazing...” he whispers.

The bigger man's lips twitch. “You're welcome...”

Jim pulls Sebastian's head down sloppily and kisses along the chiselled face. “I'm… close...”

“I know… sweetheart...” Sebastian reassures. He nuzzles Jim lovingly. “Cum hard… for me… okay?”

Jim nods slowly and raises his knees up slightly. He gasps and pushes down against Sebastian's force, whining breathily as the blond hammers home.

Sebastian holds Jim close and gasps as the brunet's teeth latch on sharply to his neck. Keeping up the brutal speed, Sebastian grunts as he feels Jim's muscles tightening around him.

Jim shrieks and scrabbles at Sebastian's bare, scratched back as the drowsy contentedness flies right off of the brunet's face. It is replaced with an expression of awe, lust and exhaustion, as he pours himself up against Sebastian's chest and feels the warm liquid drip back down onto himself.

Sebastian's cock seems to take the burning wet sensation along his torso as permission to pursue his own release. Within mere moments the blond's already ragged breathing is noticeably more laboured as he feels his hips start to tremble. Sebastian's thrusts become erratic as he cants himself up into Jim's welcoming body.

Jim snatches at Sebastian sharply as the big blond begins to slump. “Glass on the floor, remember.”

Sebastian chuckles and clings to the counter to keep his footing. “Yeah… good call.”

Jim stretches a little and nips Sebastian's shoulder. “I'm not sure I can spank you after you've been such a good boy...”

The bigger man raises his eyes to Jim's and chuckles softly. “Might... give us... some time … to recover.”

Jim returns a satisfied look. “Seems reasonable.” The brunet flops back down on the hard surface. It's warm and a little damp from the sweat of his body.

Sebastian licks a stripe up Jim's wet stomach. “My legs... are fucking jelly.”

Jim smirks and pets the man's handsome face. “I can wait.”

“I'm more willing... to let you throw me on this floor... and take me, rather than trying... to get up those stairs. I'll take the risks,” Sebastian mutters.

Jim frowns softly and flicks Sebastian's beaded forehead. “If you shred anything important you won't be spending the night in our bed, and then I'll have to kill you. So no. No fucking way.”

Sebastian chuckles, rolls his eyes, and slowly tries to stand. He pulls up his boxers and suit trousers clumsily.

“Wash your hands so you don't drop me,” Jim commands.

“Huh? Oh. Sure,” Sebastian agrees. He waits for a few beats then moves over to the sink.

Drying his hands, Sebastian gazes around at the mess. “Fuck cleaning this up. I'll call a maid: we're not moving from bed for a month at least.”

“We have jobs,” Jim points out, sitting up slowly.

“I'll make nice with my father so I have my inheritance reinstated and I'll keep you,” says Sebastian.

Jim snickers. “I'm worth that, am I?”

Sebastian strides back over and lifts Jim to his chest. Kissing the brunet, the big man responds, “You're worth far more than that. I'd do anything for you.”

“Even carry me up those stairs?” Jim teases.

Sebastian chuckles. “Yes, Kitten, even that.”

Jim smiles and slumps bonelessly into the bigger man's grip. Sebastian takes them up to the bedroom.

Jim is lowered carefully onto the bed with a drawn out kiss. The smaller man tugs Sebastian's waistband. “Get these down.”

The big blond rolls his eyes and obeys at once, toeing out of his shoes as well.

“Go pick a belt,” Jim declares.

Sebastian looks at him, then gives a short nod. He grabs the first to come to hand and carries it back intently.

Jim smirks and takes the prize. “Start changing the sheets.”

Sebastian tilts his head quickly. “What?”

The brunet folds the belt and cracks it calmly across the bigger man's side. It leaves a blotchy pink mark as Sebastian jumps.

“You heard me,” Jim smirks.

Sebastian chortles ruefully and rubs his stinging skin. “Indeed I did.” He gives Jim an assessing look then begins to strip their large bed.

Jim swipes at the handsome man's body sporadically. He is amused by Seb's yelps and the growing heat in the bigger man's eyes is even more tantalising than the red marks all over the toned body.

Sebastian looks at Jim breathlessly as he finally gets clean bedding fitted. The little brunet smirks and straps the big man hard across the ass.

“Lie down: you're mine,” Jim declares.

Sebastian rolls his head back with a sigh as he risks rubbing his burning flesh. “Yes, boss.”

Jim flicks his gaze over the bigger man, chortles, then crosses the room for real lube.

Sebastian drops onto his knees and forearms, giving Jim an amusedly mistrustful look over his shoulder. Jim winks and approaches with the greasy bottle. He gives Sebastian's sore bottom a fond spank.

Sebastian's lower lip juts out, his gaze warning but far from displeased.

Jim grins and swats the big man again. “Missed this, Tiger?”

“Maybe,” Sebastian mutters.

Jim smiles mockingly and raises his hands away. “Oh, well in that case...”

Sebastian growls and presses his forehead into the clean duvet. “Okay, I've missed it; _I've missed it_ ,” he admits.

Jim lifts his brows and squeezes each of Sebastian's cheeks before giving a few more moderately painful smacks. “You're all mine, aren't you?”

Sebastian presses his lips together and pushes back into Jim's grip. “ _Obviously_.”

The brunet scratches his nails down Sebastian's pink bottom. The big man's breath catches as Jim grazes over his tender belt stripes. Jim asks, “Are you giving me backchat, darling?”

Sebastian chuckles wryly. “Would I dare, mo chroí?”

Jim dips and mouths the red marks on the bigger man's offered skin. “You'd better not. You do want me to spread these cheeks apart and claim you, don't you?”

Sebastian stops laughing and meets Jim's gaze intently. “ _Yes_ ,” the big blond agrees shakily.

The younger man hums and trails his fingertips down the dark crease between Sebastian's buttocks. “Is this where you belong, Sebby? In our bed, arse in the air for me?”

“Oh fuck yes,” Sebastian agrees.

Jim's dark eyes sparkle. He drizzles the cool lube over Sebastian's hot skin and smiles at the way it makes Seb jerk forward with a pronounced gasp.

The big blond gasps even prettier when Jim slicks his fingers and teases that familiar whorl of flesh.

“Someone's eager,” Jim comments as Sebastian pushes back against the touch welcomingly.

“I love you,” Sebastian points out with a roll of his blue eyes.

“Mm, I'm still going to make you wait for it, you greedy thing,” Jim purrs. He pulls away the other fingers, pushing in slowly with only one.

“Want you _now_ ,” Sebastian whines. He tells himself his voice is a growl, but the way Jim beams in amusement proves it is not.

Jim delivers another smack. “When I'm good and ready.”

“I want you _in_ me,” Sebastian huffs, pushing against Jim insistently. “Want you deep and hard and fast and-”

Jim tuts and spanks both Sebastian's thighs, smirking as the big man yelps. “I'm going to give it to you _slow_ and _torturous_ and _teasing_ until you _beg_ and _cry_ for me to tear you open...”

“Oh Christ,” Sebastian mutters, dropping back to his forearms. 

Jim smirks. “What? You think I'd forget what you like, Tiger?” 

“No, I've just been trying to _not_ think about how fucking perfect you are because no one else fucking compares,” Sebastian grumbles. 

Jim slaps him sharply, face still amused. “ _You're Goddamned right no one else compares._.” As Sebastian gasps Jim works in a second finger. “This arse is _mine_.” 

“Always,” Sebastian moans in agreement. 

Jim's gaze flicks up with fond mirth. He twists his fingers inside the bigger man. “You're so sentimental.” 

Sebastian grins over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah; I know you love me too.” 

Jim drops his head and sucks a dark reddish purple mark onto the big man's buttock. “Of course I do.” 

“Do I get another finger for being a good boy?” Sebastian asks hopefully. 

Jim mouths the red handprints near his lips. “I should take one away for your greed,” he responds, but he slicks up and pushes another in anyway. Jim crooks his digits teasingly. 

Sebastian groans. 

“Anyone would think you haven't had me in forever,” Jim teases. 

Sebastian winks over his shoulder. “Maybe I can't get enough of you.” 

“Mm, you want my cock, Tiger?” Jim purrs. 

Sebastian narrows his eyes mistrustfully. “What's the catch?” 

Jim laughs cheerfully. “So distrustful!” 

Sebastian squirms on the other man's fingers. “I must know you well.” 

“I'm going to know you _really_ well shortly,” Jim promises. 

Sebastian's lips twitch. “Already do.” 

Jim strokes Sebastian's prostate gently and calmly listens to the bigger man's ragged breathing. “That's true. Do you want my prick, Sebby?” 

“You know I do,” the muscled blond gasps. 

Jim spanks the man. “ _Do you want my prick, Sebby_?” 

“Yes..!” Sebastian blurts. 

“Magic word, Sebastian...” Jim prompts. 

“Now,” the blond retorts bravely. 

He yelps and exclaims as Jim reaches between his thighs and lightly swats the blond's testicles a few times with a pointed expression. 

“Yes _please_ , can I have your cock?” Sebastian amends carefully. 

“I'm not convinced you deserve it,” Jim sniffs, pinching the big man's bottom, then pulling his fingers out. Jim listens to the blond start a frantic plea, smirks, then slicks up and pushes in. 

Sebastian squares his elbows, head dipping as he lets out a deep, guttural noise of approval. 

Jim swings his hips. “This what you've been missing, Tiger?” 

“Christ, you have no idea,” Sebastian agrees. “Give it to me hard, Arty, I want to feel you after.” 

Jim scoffs. “I told you: you're getting it slow, and deep, and gentle. I'm planning on buggering your brains out for the foreseeable future, so there's no sense in making you sore yet.” 

“Oh, well if you'd explained it like that sooner...” Sebastian mutters, rolling his hips. 

Jim rocks slowly up against the bigger man, fingers travelling over the blotchy pink skin of Sebastian's thighs and bottom. “Don't I usually have a plan?” 

“Yes,” Sebastian gasps as Jim thrusts teasingly, “but I don't always like them.” 

Jim chuckles softly against Sebastian's back. “Where would be the fun if you liked all my plans?” 

The blond throws him another amused look over his shoulder, but then he bites his lip as Jim pulls out. The brunet holds Sebastian's gaze. He lines back up easily and pushes in _slowly_. 

“Are… Are you seriously going to do that every time?” Sebastian whimpers. 

Jim smirks and repeats the action. “I might.” 

“Fucking monster,” Sebastian mutters, but he twists and gives his smaller lover a kiss. 

“No accounting for taste,” Jim tells Sebastian's broad back afterwards. He scratches down the scar from that unexplained whore. “I fell for you after all.” 

Sebastian rolls his eyes at Jim's smirk, but his composure is extremely shortlived as Jim repeats that fucking slow, torturous out then in movement. 

“I'll have grey hair by the time you're finished,” Sebastian groans. 

“I'll still love you,” Jim taunts. “Might finally make you look distinguished.” 

Sebastian cannot roll his eyes. Jim's about to push back in again. Fuuuuckkkk. Yes. 

“Deeper,” the blond breathes. 

Jim smirks. “You know that's not how this works.” 

Sebastian sighs. He's a trembling wreck by the time Jim finally reaches up and nibbles his shoulder. “You want to cum, pretty boy?” 

The blond groans desperately. “Oh please, fuck, _yes_ Jim...” 

“Don't you dare touch your cock,” Jim warns. “You're going to cum on my dick or not at all, aren't you?” 

Sebastian quivers. It doesn't really take much more than that to get him at the point he knows he can't come back from. He thinks he should probably be embarrassed about the sort of power Jim has over him, but it's true: Jim really _does_ own his prick. Owns him body and soul. 

Jim grips Sebastian possessively as he increases his thrusts against the big man's prostate. Sebastian feels dizzy and disorientated and _euphoric_ and he's not entirely surprised when the pleasure makes him black out. 

Jim is still leaning over him, inside him, when Sebastian comes to in his own pleasure. Jim raises his brows in a fond smirk. “Can I finish now?” 

Sebastian rubs his face and grins at the brunet. “You _could_ keep fucking my arse, _or_ you could bring that beautiful cock here and fuck my face.” 

Jim doesn't need to be told twice. 

Sebastian stretches out afterwards in their damp bedding. “Why did we change the sheets first?” he smirks. 

“Because you're whipped?” Jim suggests with an amused raise of brow. He drops down alongside the blond with satisfaction. 

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Wasn't what I meant.” He rests on his forearms. “Can we just stay here forever?” 

Jim nuzzles in and kisses his lover's sore spots. With a sudden smirk and a quick bite, he replies, “ _You_ can't. You're going to make my lunch.” 

Sebastian hisses, twisting out from under Jim's teeth, then chortles. “Might be a safer place for me to be.” 

Jim winks at him and flops back amidst the pillows. 

Sebastian gives the smaller man a leisurely kiss then drags himself up. “What do you want to eat, baby?” 

Jim starts to set his face haughtily and Sebastian expects a request deliberately chosen to test his patience, but then Jim's expression softens and he rubs his cheek against Sebastian's naked skin. “Anything.” 

Sebastian smiles and pets the smaller man fondly. Dropping a kiss to the scar on the back of Jim's head, Sebastian murmurs, “Anything for you. I'll see what we have.” 

Jim smiles back openly, then rolls over, claiming a pillow. Sebastian pets him then stands and pulls on his underwear. 

“Shoes,” Jim reminds him. 

Sebastian nods and shoves his feet into trainers. His lips twitch at the evident amusement his outfit places on Jim's face. 

Sebastian sings softly under his breath as he examines the cupboards and starts to cook. He is surprised when Jim thumps softly down the stairs in socks and nothing else. He doesn't look as sweaty as before so presumably he's wiped himself down a little. Sebastian kind of wants to get him dirty again immediately. 

Jim crosses his arms and whistles pointedly. 

“What?” Sebastian asks. 

Jim smirks and indicates his suitcase, as well as his feet and the floor. 

“Oh, right.” Sebastian gives the food a stir then trots over to give Jim his suitcase. 

Jim takes out his onesie and pulls it on, uncaring of any lingering scent of sex. “Trainers?” 

Sebastian raises his brows, then fetches Jim's chunky-soled footwear, feeling like Jim may just have been utterly on the button with the earlier 'whipped' comment. 

Sebastian returns to cooking. Jim pulls out a work laptop then discards the suitcase, sauntering over to the large couch. He drops down onto the odd leather and gives Sebastian a once over before switching on the appliance. 

“You can keep singing,” Jim teases. 

Sebastian sniggers and glances over his shoulder at the other man ruefully. “Any requests?” 

Jim raises his brows over the laptop lid. “Does it matter? It's not likely to be recognisable with your inability to carry a tune.” 

“Prick,” Sebastian laughs fondly. He hums as he sways around the kitchen contentedly. Jim smiles as he does, barely frowning at his screen. 

Jim puts the computer aside when Sebastian serves up their food. “Maybe you'd make a good little housewife if you got rid of the leg hair,” the brat teases. 

Sebastian rolls his eyes and gestures flippantly at the mess. “Well I've already got the drinking problem.” 

“Had,” Jim states firmly. 

Sebastian blinks in surprise at the fiercely protective expression on the smaller man's face. “...Sure,” the blond agrees. 

Jim nods as though Sebastian has been suitably chastised and settles down to eat. 

He groans. 

“You're such a good cook for a rich boy. I forgot,” Jim comments. 

Sebastian settles comfortably beside him. “Thank the staff who felt sorry for this poor little rich boy. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen.” 

“I've seen how you handle a knife,” Jim says. 

Sebastian grins. “You mock how I handle a knife.” 

Jim raises his brows playfully, eyes glittering, then shoves a loaded fork into his mouth happily. 

Sebastian leans forward for a quick kiss then focuses on his meal. 

Jim does not let them linger in companionable silence after eating. Instead he clicks his fingers. Sebastian takes the other man's used crockery. 

“Time you got this glass tidied up,” Jim states haughtily. 

Sebastian rolls his eyes. He grabs Jim's chin, taking a kiss, then stands to clear away their dishes and obey. 

The smaller man pulls the laptop back towards himself and loses himself in whatever its screen displays. His thin fingers clack swiftly at the keyboard. 

Sebastian lifts his head from the broken bottles on the floor and observes Jim plotting a criminal empire. The big man feels fascinated but ill at ease. 

Jim stirs at the attention. “Don't disturb me, Sebastian: Daddy's busy putting food on the table.” 

Sebastian chuckles from his position on all fours. “What, I'm not the breadwinner now?” 

Jim rolls his eyes behind the screen. “You're just paid to shoot or hurt people. I can earn a fair bit more using body parts other than my orifices,” the brunet explains. 

Sebastian stands and empties glass into the bin. He murmurs, “Yes, yes, I know you're clever.” 

Jim's dark eyes glitter ominously in response. 

Sebastian drops to his knees and begins cleaning up again, feeling he has been dismissed. Clearing away the shards the big blond cannot help but feel unsettled. Arty is snuggled into his black onesie, but that calculating expression on his face… 

It makes Sebastian nervous. 

The big man clears up carefully then joins Jim on the sofa. He is utterly, oddly relieved when the brunet finally closes the laptop lid over and turns with a tired, fond look. 

“The rest of the night's yours,” Jim states. “What do you want to do?” 

Sebastian gives a weak grin then rolls his eyes. “You.” 

The younger man smirks and pushes the computer onto the coffee table out of reach. “I might never tire of your predictability...” 


	26. Dinner Plans

They are home, and something in Sebastian's chest is healed by the comfortable way Jim moves around the space.

And yet…

And yet there's more of that jagged, independent version of Jim from the days before in the brunet still. Sebastian is unsure why he thought being home together would be enough for everything to feel normal. It's not.

It's not… bad, exactly. It's just… different.

Arty always was capable of looking after himself. The former whore has always been calculating and hardworking with something dark and deadly simmering just beneath the surface.

And… Sebastian loves that about Jim. He loves Jim's strength and cleverness and that he's just as fucked up as Sebastian himself.

But…

Well. It's stupid. It's certainly a stupid thing to feel uneasy about.

But Jim has been glued to his work laptop for _days_. And he's wearing _suits_. Just to sit about the house.

As if he can't relax. As if he's got something to prove.

Sebastian does not like it. He wants to tear Jim away from the glowing screen and insist, “You're home. You don't have to do any of that anymore. I've got you.”

But there is no denying that Jim is _talented_ at these new crimes, and Sebastian thinks the young Irishman even enjoys them. And how can Sebastian judge, when Sebastian himself brought Jim into the work in the first place?

The muscled blond tries not to make it an issue.

Jim is not blind to the ex soldier's tense lips.

“Sebby,” the small man says at last.

Sebastian almost falls over himself turning to face Jim. The brunet tries not to allow his lips to twitch at the sight but his eyes sparkle a bit.

Sebastian feels his mouth go dry. “Yes, Jim?”

“Go get dressed,” the small man says over the brim of his laptop. “Put on something heartstopping.”

Sebastian quirks a brow. “Intimidating?”

Jim tilts his head in brief consideration. “You're very handsome when you look frightening.”

The bigger man does not suppress a grin. “You think I'm handsome when I'm scary?”

Jim rolls his eyes and feigns returning his attention to the computer screen. “Even when you're disgusting after a run and have morning breath that could kill a bear you're still aesthetically… pleasing.”

Sebastian openly permits the goofy smile which spreads across his 'aesthetically pleasing' face.

“Don't get smug, Sebastian, just go do as you're told,” Jim tells the laptop.

The big blond crosses over and dips down to press a kiss into the side of Jim's face. “Yes, boss.”

Jim's gaze flickers. Although he keeps his dark eyes fixed on his screen he reaches up and tenderly brushes his hand over Sebastian's skin. “ _Now_ , Tiger.”

Sebastian's teeth graze his lightly scarred lower lip. “You gonna spank me if I don't?”

The small brunet fixes the muscled man with a look that gives Sebastian interesting chills. Jim raises his brows just slightly and curls his lips merely a hint. Those eyes remind Sebastian that there is something dark, deadly and dangerous within Jim. Predatory. 

The blond's breathing comes shallow; the only noise in the large room.

Fond amusement dances across Jim's stern gaze. “I'll punish you if you show me up,” the brunet warns in a voice that is cutting and loving all at once. “Now go. Get. Ready.”

Sebastian swallows. He's pretty sure Jim knows the effect that toying, authoritative voice has. The bigger man brushes his forehead deferentially against Jim's scalp then darts upstairs.

The brunet smiles just barely to himself.

Sebastian feels a bit silly as he notices that he is bounding to complete his instructions. The big man slows a little and chews his lip wryly as he pulls open his wardrobe.

 _Heartstopping_. Sebastian mulls over the word as he eyes his shirts and suits contemplatively. The blond knows that his broad musculature makes him both intimidating and somewhat conventionally attractive. Masculine.

He's not entirely certain what he is supposed to wear which would emphasise that.

Sebastian runs his hand over his clothing thoughtfully. It's not a gesture that comes naturally to him: he's seen Jim perform the action. Sebastian pauses as his calloused fingers brush a shirt that he imagines Jim's fingers might pause on. There's a certain set to Jim's face and a certain lingering glint in Jim's eyes whenever Sebastian wears this shirt.

Sebastian pulls the ironed shirt down from its hanger.

Despite the way Jim's lips twitch sometimes when Sebastian dresses, the blond is not entirely hopeless at picking out an outfit. There's a sliver of his mother's tastes in him, however far down within they are buried. Sebastian lifts a complementary suit down and starts to change his outfit.

Their pillows are squashed down in the middle from where he and Jim slept that night. Sebastian notices as he drops his discarded clothes onto the sheets. The sight is so normal and right that Sebastian's lips tug upwards at the corners. Arty's home.

Sebastian runs a hand over his face and wonders whether he looks _heartstopping_ enough for his fickle little limpet.

The big blond treads down the stairs.

Jim doesn't turn around. “Ready, Seb?” he questions.

“Think so,” the blond replies. Jim finally pushes down the laptop lid and turns around.

He arches one brow in a way that makes the bigger man's stomach twist. “Tie, Sebastian.”

The blond starts to sigh like an exasperated teenager, but he stops as Jim's gaze rakes him critically. Despite the way that makes his insides quiver, Sebastian can actually see Jim's thought process as the brunet disregards telling him to fetch a particular tie by brand, colour, or the last time worn.

Jim gets up from the couch smoothly – so much more graceful now that those strawberry milk scars have healed to eerie white- and steps around Sebastian on the stairs. The blond's lips twitch as he follows the purposeful young man. Jim is as haughty and judgemental as many of the tailors Mrs Moran had taken Sebastian to years ago, even if he still hasn't thrown out that scruffy old tracksuit.

Jim appears oblivious to the way Sebastian's thoughts run to those trackies around Jim's slim ankles. Instead the brunet retrieves the chosen tie and indicates their bed briskly. “Sit.”

Sebastian's gaze flickers interestedly. He obeys.

Jim unbuttons and pops Sebastian's collar swiftly, the brush of his small hands not as icy as usual. Heated from the keyboard still.

Sebastian swallows as Jim loops the tie efficiently around the man's muscular neck. “What?” Jim murmurs.

Sebastian leans his face against Jim's as the brunet knots not Sebastian's usual half-Windsor, schoolboy, or drunken Manhattan, but a perfectly neat Kelvin. “Nothing,” the blond responds. “S'just nice.”

Jim's hands still for a moment then he fusses needlessly with the tie for a few seconds longer. He pulls back. “What do you mean?”

Sebastian wraps his arms around Jim's waist and tugs the smaller man closer. “You look after me.”

“It's just a tie, Bash,” Jim mutters, but his fingers brush the material tellingly.

Sebastian kisses Jim's neck. “You love me,” he says with warm satisfaction.

Jim makes a small grumbling noise in his throat and shifts his weight like a scolded little boy. “I have to look at you,” he huffs softly. “I hate when you're sloppy.”

Sebastian kisses the small man's ear. “You're cute when you lie.”

Jim's gaze flickers then he mock glares. He nips the wide expanse of neck above Sebastian's collar. “Who are you calling a liar?”

Sebastian groans and wraps arms under Jim's bottom and across his lower back, pressing their bodies together. “Tease.”

Jim doesn't resist the touch at all. “Sebby, control your thoughts. We're going out.”

Sebastian blows air from his cheeks childishly but nods and presses a chaste kiss over Jim's crown. “Fine. Fine.”

Jim gives a crooked grin and drags his short fingernails just a little over the fabric covering Sebastian's scarred pectoral muscle. “Plenty of time for that later.”

Sebastian's face lights up comically as though they haven't been buggering each other brainless for days. “Really?”

Jim pulls away and smacks the other man's thigh lightly. “If you behave yourself.”

Sebastian lifts the small brunet, the Glock in his shoulder holster warm from their chests, and carries Jim downstairs. “I can behave _so_ good.”

“Well,” Jim mutters. He doesn't frown at all when Sebastian puts him down and smooths out their suit creases.

Sebastian pets Jim's hair absently and reaches for their keys. “Where are we going?”

The brunet merely smirks and sticks his hands in his pockets as he saunters into the elevator.

Sebastian blinks as Jim strides confidently up to an ostentatious building. “Who are we working for?”

Jim pauses as he pushes open a heavy door. His dark eyes glitter carefully over his shoulder. “Did I say we were working?” he asks.

Sebastian looks confused for a beat then follows after Jim as the small brunet disappears towards a stressed looking staff member.

Jim names their booked table and walks on with barely a glance.

Sebastian takes the seat opposite Jim. “You've been here before?”

“It was recommended,” Jim responds, spreading his napkin across his lap.

“By who, the Queen of England?” Sebastian comments.

“Someone who rules a bit more effectively,” Jim mutters. Sebastian blinks when he realises Jim isn't really joking.

The blond takes a shaky breath. “So, what's the occasion?”

Jim raises a brow. He does not reply for a beat, ordering for both Sebastian and himself before the blond can even make eye contact with their server, then leans back against his chair. “I can't treat my ...partner?”

Sebastian gazes around at their decadent setting. “I'm not complaining, I'm just not used to feeling like a sugar baby.”

Jim snorts softly. “Isn't this the sort of place one takes the son of a Lord?”

Sebastian purses his lips. “Rawdon, maybe. I think the last time I was here my father dragged me into the toilets for a tanning.”

Jim gives a playful, heated smirk. “You think I won't, Seb?”

The bigger man blushes out-with his control. “I'm not calling you Daddy in public, Jim. Let's be very clear on that.”

Jim butters a roll calmly. “If you're so certain why are you such a fetching colour right now?”

Sebastian clears his throat uncomfortably. “A-Arty...”

Jim grins. “Relax, Tiger, I'm playing with you.”

The blond still looks flustered. “Yeah, boss.”

Jim kicks him lightly under the table. “Relax. I just wanted to treat you.”

Sebastian tilts his head. “What for?”

Jim shrugs stiff shoulders. “Usually you pay for everything. I can pay my own way now.”

Sebastian hooks his leg around Jim's. “I love looking after you.”

Jim nods. “I… I know. But we should look after _each other_. Right?”

Sebastian blinks, and he cannot help but reach across the table to rest his fingers over Jim's. “That kinda sounded like you love me, Kitten.”

Jim glares but is quite content to allow the touch. “You're _so close_ to a sore arse, Seb.”

The blond grins cheekily. “You promise?”

Jim's lips twist in amusement. “You're really trusting me with your daddy issues now, Tiger?”

Sebastian straightens his shoulders and gives the brunet a sincere look. “I'd trust you with anything. Everything.”

Jim's face softens. “You're being a little bitch again, love.”

Sebastian shrugs unrepentantly. “So? I've… I've never felt the way I do about you for anyone before. I love you, Jim.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “I love you too, idiot.”

Their server lays down their first course and Sebastian is rueful as Jim hides himself in stiffly regarding the food.

“Should I shut up?” the blond asks.

Jim shakes his head. “No. _Yes_. ...No. I...” He sighs, and despite the expensive surroundings, he reaches across and steals Sebastian's fork from the big man's hand. Jim gives an almost shy smile as he takes the mouthful from the ornate utensil, then hands it back. He composes himself with a deep breath. “Just be you, Tiger.”

“Idiotic?” Sebastian smiles.

Jim tilts his head. “You're not _just_ an idiot.”

“Course I'm not,” Sebastian grins, and reaches across to pinch from Jim's own plate. “I am _your_ idiot, and you love me.”

Jim cannot help but stare at the bigger man. A year ago Jim would have been transfixed by their surroundings or the posh, pricey food, but but honestly… none of that really registers much. He only half notices that this is the most expensive meal he has ever bought, and that none of the staff realised he didn't belong here.

Jim stares at the confident set of Sebastian's shoulders under quality fabric and the swell of muscular arms that lead down to large, strong hands curled around fancy cutlery. The grip is natural, Sebastian is no stranger to extravagant dinners, but the fat knuckles are scarred and flat.

He's so strong. Sebastian is all broad chest and big heart and warm touches. Why this tough, capable creature would happily bend to Jim's will is a mystery to the brunet's brilliant mind. Sebastian is _not_ stupid.

Jim takes in the big man's face. Sebastian's expression is open, patient and loving. It twists and melts Jim's heart just to look at it.

Sebastian's lips quirk. “Like what you see?”

Jim stares at the blue eyes that haunted his dreams during their time apart. “Don't leave.”

Sebastian blinks, his smitten expression fracturing in confusion. “What?”

Jim chokes, swallowing and quite startled by the blurted words. “I...”

Seb's big hand crosses the table again to grip Jim's firmly. “I am _never_ leaving you again.”

Jim's dark eyes quiver. The dinner is not supposed to be about this: it's supposed to be a thank you and a _look what I can do for you now_. It's supposed to be pride and… it's supposed to be a reward for all the time Jim now spends working whilst Sebastian tries not to act needy. 

Jim's not supposed to feel dizzying tightness in his chest at the thought that all of this could be ripped from him again.

Sebastian stands, and for one horrible moment Jim thinks the big blond has finally had enough of these pathetic failures, but instead Sebastian moves closer and dips down.

He doesn't scold. Sebastian presses loving kisses over Jim's eyelids, nose, cheekbones and chin. Jim closes his eyes and relaxes into the contact, then tenses.

“Sebby, people'll see...”

Sebastian sneers derisively. “The amount this lot make they'll damn well let me kiss you.”

Jim leans into the embrace. “I want to more than kiss you,” he mumbles.

Sebastian chuckles and strokes Jim's face. “We might need to own the place for that. Or make sure we share a prison cell if we get caught.”

“How would I make you my wife in prison?” Jim asks quietly.

Sebastian's lips brush Jim's ear. “You already made me dress pretty and brought me out for a fancy dinner. I feel like your wife.”

Jim chuckles, feeling almost calm again. He twines his fingers with Sebastian's. “My blond bombshell are you?”

Sebastian snorts. “Call me that again, Sasslips, and _I_ won't be the one getting my little bottom smacked in the toilets.”

Jim giggles. “What sort of sugar baby are you? Maybe I should go for one of Mrs H's trollops downstairs instead...”

Sebastian chokes and gives the smaller man's thigh a warning squeeze. “Oh no. I am _not_ sharing you. You are _mine_ , James Moriarty.”

Jim taps Sebastian's nose. “Articus Moran. And that's _Daddy_ to you, toots.”

The blond grasps Jim's arm. “Finish eating. I'm going to make you suck my dick in the bathroom.”

Jim arches his brow. “Only if you suck mine first. And I want dessert after.”

“When do I ever not give you what you want?” Sebastian grins.

Jim moves his utensils on his plate to signal _take this away_ and pinches the bigger man's ear. “Come show Daddy your gratitude for this nice night out, pet.”

Sebastian tries not to blush. “You're going to need to stop saying that.”

Jim smirks. “I'm not judging you, Tiger. If you want to be used and abused in a restaurant lavatory who am I to judge?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, cheeks still vividly pink. “What a martyr you are.”

“Are you being cheeky, young man?” Jim purrs. “Don't make me wash your wicked little mouth out.”

The bigger man swallows. “Seriously, love, you're not funny. You're going to have to stop that...”

“Why, because you're too hard to walk to the toilets?” Jim asks archly.

Sebastian heaves a sigh, casting the other man a look of exasperated affection. “You know me too well.”

“Or you're stabbing me with it.”

“Or that.”


	27. Moods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Some violence in this chapter, not particularly graphic.

Sebastian pretends not to have been doing nothing but waiting for Jim to return when the young Irishman walks through the elevator doors. Ordinarily this is something Sebastian knows Jim is polite enough to pretend not to notice, but today Jim barely spares Sebastian a glance.

The brunet crosses over to the kitchen and switches on the kettle without saying a word.

Sebastian presses his lips together and tries to tell himself his stomach does not twist with a needy disappointment. He feigns contentment and hopes Jim acknowledges him soon.

Jim instead stares blankly at the kettle.

Sebastian flexes his fingers a fraction and wonders whether he's in trouble somehow.

Jim darts abruptly towards the cupboard and snatches out a teacup. After the merest hesitation he fumbles out one of Sebastian's preferred mugs too and sets them both on the counter. He sets about making tea with strained movements.

“Are… you okay?” Sebastian asks.

“Just grand,” Jim mutters. The kettle cries out and he grabs for it, cursing as he burns himself a little. He shoves his finger in his mouth and waves Sebastian to sit back down.

Jim pours with his right hand. Sebastian notes that the brunet's use of his non-dominant hand barely seems unpracticed, but there is something else about the action that seems clumsy. There's a tension in the set of Jim's shoulders that prevents Sebastian obediently seating himself.

Jim makes the tea and throws away the used teabag (frugal little thing) with more aggression than usual.

“Arty, you're worrying me a little,” Sebastian says slowly.

Jim looks around quickly. His ordinarily pale skin seems more ashen than usual. His gaze wavers for a moment then he feigns a tired smile. “Just a hard day at the office, my love. Nothing for you to concern yourself about.”

Sebastian eyes the short man dubiously. Jim's sweating a little. Fingers twitching slightly. The tick of his slim throat is faster than typical.

“If you say so,” Sebastian says with adopted calmness. He steps slowly over with an exaggerated, unthreatening deliberateness. “Shall I get the biscuits?”

Jim nods jerkily, seeming a little dazed.

Sebastian pulls down the sweetest biscuits they have. He'll get some extra sugar in the little bastard and maybe that will help with the apparent shock.

Jim hugs his burning teacup with both hands, holding it defensively against his thin chest. Steam rises against his face and leaves him flushed.

Sebastian's expression softens. “I love you.”

Jim's face flies up sharply enough that Sebastian worries for a second that the small man will spill the scalding tea. Jim swallows. “I love you too, Tiger.”

Sebastian nods and lifts his mug. He carries the biscuit tin over to the couch and holds it out.

Jim trots over obediently and picks up one of his favorites. Sebastian smiles at that, but worries a little as the brunet does not sit as close as usual.

Jim dips his biscuit in his hot drink. His tongue darts out to lick away the melting chocolate. Slowly, the slender man relaxes his legs a little, sliding them out to tuck under Sebastian's thigh. Sebastian nods to himself approvingly and lets the small brunet gather his thoughts.

“Sebby?” Jim mumbles eventually.

The wait for this one word is long, and Jim's voice is so timid it twists Sebastian's heart. “Yes, Kitten?”

Jim seems unusually insecure but his face flickers gratefully at the comforting use of his much protested pet name. “Can… Can we have an early night tonight?”

Sebastian tries to keep the concern from his face. Playfully he responds, “Someone missing my cuddles?”

Jim doesn't even protest. He gives a deep, brief nod then stands. He reaches to take away Sebastian's empty mug.

Sebastian looks at the suited man's gait and risks pulling Jim into his lap instead. Jim stiffens, but then despite his tense muscles clings tightly to Sebastian's teeshirt.

Sebastian kisses Jim's neck carefully. “Do I need to hurt anyone for you?”

Jim turns around sharply, seeming unusually surprised. He shakes his head but gives a small, warm smile. He swallows then pushes his face against the blond's. “Just… Just take me upstairs, please?”

Sebastian takes Jim's teacup and shoves it down on the coffee table, one arm wrapped comfortably around Jim's middle. He then gives Jim's neck another quick kiss and lifts Jim easily.

Sebastian carries Jim upstairs and the brunet disrobes swiftly the moment he is freed. Sebastian strokes Jim's face. “Are you sure you're in the mood?”

“Need you,” Jim blurts.

Sebastian blinks at the evident truth in the younger man's voice. He kisses Jim soundly and growls protectively when Jim pulls him close desperately.

“I-I'm fine...” Jim gasps. “Just… Just take me… Please, Seb?”

Sebastian squeezes him reassuringly then pulls back and strips off. Jim roams his hands desperately over the bigger man's chest. Sebastian kisses down Jim's shoulder possessively. “How do you want it, mo chroí?”

Jim looks almost embarrassed, his lips not quite forming a response.

Sebastian raises his brows. “You want it gentle, sweetheart?”

Jim nods jerkily.

Sebastian pulls the small man close by the hips. “Come here. I'll kiss you open.”

Jim's lips twitch approvingly. His hand is light on Sebastian's scalp as he nudges the head down encouragingly.

Sebastian resolves himself to treat whatever is stressing Jim by spending as much time and effort as possible pleasing the pale brunet. Jim's thighs feel stiff over Sebastian's shoulder's at first but the blond's mouth and fingers soon get Jim making delectable little gasps and moans of pleasure.

Sebastian smiles against Jim's wet skin. He's going to spend hours down here, and Jim will hopefully have quite forgotten whatever has upset him by the time Sebastian allows him to fall asleep.

Jim is sated and exhausted when Sebastian crawls up beside him. The brunet strokes his lover and gives a sleepy smile. “Please?”

Sebastian chuckles tiredly and nuzzles Jim affectionately. “You don't want to wait until morning?”

Jim spreads his damp thighs pointedly. “I'm not sleeping until you've had me.”

Sebastian strokes Jim's willing pucker with consideration. “You hate feeling c-”

“I don't want you to pull out after,” Jim interrupts quickly.

Sebastian flops onto his back and reaches to pull Jim onto his lap. “Alright, love.”

Jim shakes his head. “No.”

Sebastian tilts his own. “What, pet?”

“I… want you on top of me. Falling asleep inside of me,” Jim says.

“I'll crush you,” Sebastian protests.

Jim nods. “Need you close.”

Sebastian taps Jim's hip thoughtfully. “Get on your side.”

Jim arches a brow softly but obeys. The quizzical expression he makes as he looks over his shoulder is quickly overtaken by surprise as Sebastian yanks him close.

“Oh,” Jim says. He pushes his bottom towards Seb approvingly.

The big blond curls a strong arm under Jim's neck as a cushion and slides his free hand down to align themselves. Jim gasps prettily as Sebastian carefully pushes in.

Sebastian moves his hand to Jim's hip and drags the slight man closer still. Jim yelps then pushes back into the contact firmly. Sebastian moans and kisses Jim's neck.

“This suit you, baby?” the blond checks.

Jim reaches back and rolls his hips as Sebastian obediently moves his lips to Jim's own. The brunet melts into the embrace and Sebastian cuddles Jim close.

They fuck slowly, and at length. Jim covers Sebastian's hands with his own and holds them tightly, whining whenever the big man attempts to shift his grip.

“Close,” Jim demands. “Need you _close_.”

Sebastian squeezes the younger man tightly and spreads kisses over every part of Jim's reachable skin. The silver scars on Jim's chest and forearms glisten as Sebastian dusts them with his wet mouth.

Jim moans and Sebastian presses a firm kiss into the vivid scar in the back of Jim's scalp. The brunet closes his eyes and leans into Sebastian's grip, one of the blond's strong legs hooking around his own.

Jim tenses and twists around suddenly, eyes opening wildly. “S...Seb, I need you to… say it...”

Sebastian stills and blinks, bending over Jim's shoulders to look the smaller man in those dark eyes. “Say what, love?”

Jim's lips rise up slowly. Sebastian's expression lightens in understanding. “Ah, _love_?” He kisses Jim's neck. “You want to hear how much I love you, sweetheart?”

Jim's expression is embarrassed but he tugs at Sebastian and whines out an agreement.

Sebastian hugs his lover close and kisses Jim more whilst canting his hips in slow, gentle circles that make the brunet quiver and kick reflectively. Sebastian trails a hand down and scratches Jim's stomach affectionately. Jim keens. His body is drained from Sebastian's earlier attentions but the blond walks calloused fingers down further still and fondles Jim anyway.

“I love you, Kitten,” the big blond declares.

Jim squirms backwards as though trying to burrow into Sebastian's very ribcage. “I… I… I love you too, Sebby...”

The blond dips his head and captures Jim's thin throat under his teeth. Jim gasps and groans encouragingly, moving up a hand to twist in Sebastian's short hair. The bigger man presses Jim against the mattress and sucks firmly, leaving a vivid, wet mark. “You're mine,” Sebastian commands.

“Promise,” Jim orders. “Promise me.”

Sebastian holds Jim so close he is surprised the brunet can breathe. The beat of Jim's heart is so close it almost feels inside his own. “Of course I promise,” Sebastian scoffs, crushing Jim tight. “You're mine and I love you more than anything. More than _anything_ , mo chroí, I _swear_.”

Jim kisses Sebastian desperately. “I love you...”

Sebastian uses the arm under Jim's neck to pull the brunet in towards him. “You're all mine. I've got you.”

Jim nods emphatically and grinds into Sebastian so sharply the blond rocks forward, grunting adorably. Jim chuckles softly until Sebastian gives his half-hard, spent, oversensitive cock a firm squeeze. Jim yelps and squirms, pushing back against the muscled blond.

Sebastian grins into Jim's collarbone. “Even if you're naughty.”

Jim reaches down and lifts Sebastian's chin. He stares into the other man's eyes intensely. “Honest?” Jim asks. “No matter what?”

Sebastian cuddles him tightly. “No matter what,” he agrees. He licks Jim playfully. “Why, have you done something you need me to smack this bottom for?”

Jim considers for a beat, drawing Sebastian's interest, then shakes his head. “Just want you to fill me up,” Jim says. “Want to be yours tonight.”

“You're _always_ mine,” Sebastian growls.

Jim grins. “Yes.”

“Come here,” Sebastian states even though Jim cannot realistically be any closer. “You feel my heartbeat, brat? That's yours, you've claimed it. Written your name on it. I am yours and you are mine.”

Jim closes his eyes and smiles. “Sebastian...”

The blond mouths Jim lovingly. “You want me to cum inside you love? Show you that you're mine?”

“Yes...” Jim gasps.

Sebastian smiles and draws himself in and out of Jim painstakingly slowly. The little brunet whimpers and gasps, shining with sweat and prettier than anything else Sebastian has ever seen.

The blond sucks Jim's ear. “That feel good, Sasslips?”

“Y...Y...Yes...” Jim shudders.

“Are you all mine?” Sebastian teases.

“ _Always_ ,” Jim agrees needfully.

Sebastian buries his face into Jim's salty neck, inhaling the familiar scent, and concentrates on the pleasurable sensations as he buries himself within Jim then draws out slowly. His breathing is becoming ragged and his thrusts irregular. Jim is a squealing, keening mess in his arms and Sebastian _loves_ him.

Sebastian bites down lightly on Jim's shoulder and thrusts up into Jim with a muffled roar. Jim pushes back encouragingly and grips Sebastian's hands tightly as the blond explodes heat and pleasure deep inside him.

“I love you,” Sebastian declares firmly before he can even see straight.

Jim wraps the big man's strong arms further around himself. “Yes. Stay.”

Sebastian snorts weakly. “I'm never going anywhere, sweetheart.”

“Wouldn't let you anyway,” Jim mumbles, and then he's asleep, his expression content. Sebastian kisses the brunet softly and snuggles in, not moving from inside Jim.

The lovemaking is an effective distraction but Sebastian notes that for the next few days Jim remains in an odd mood.

The big man slaps Jim's bottom affectionately. “You up for this meeting today?”

Jim turns and arches a brow at Sebastian. “We don't really get mental health days in this business, Sebby.”

The blond takes Jim's chin in hand. “Maybe not, but you get to delegate to me.”

Jim kisses Sebastian's hand then pushes it away. “I know. Now put your jacket on; we should get going.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes and does as instructed.

He rather wishes he had pushed the issue a little further when they get to work. They are meeting with a number of high ranking lowlifes, which is bad enough, but…

One of the men has a girl with him. Arty is barely a man but he's visibly older than her. Sebastian hopes the whore just looks young, and he _very much hopes_ that she gets paid for her time.

She acts like she does not speak English, but Sebastian notes the intelligent way she tracks the conversation. Jim notes that also, giving the teen a look Sebastian does not understand.

The girl makes Sebastian uneasy. She's a distraction; her presence is a reminder that Jim too was once a powerless whore.

For the most part Jim deigns to ignore the young woman. The negotiations need a considerable amount of his brain power, and there are far too many opposing criminals for anything to go smoothly.

The man opposite grips the girl's hair and pulls on it painfully with no more remorse than someone might if doodling during a lecture. Sebastian cannot help but shift his stance beside Jim slightly, becoming more threatening. He clears his throat softly.

The man glances up, curls his lip, and looks about to retort. Jim quickly asks a pertinent question and deflects whatever may have happened.

Displeasing a man like that is dangerous. Sebastian feels a small surge of respect for Jim's skill as the meeting moves on smoothly… or at least, as smoothly as it was before. Most of the people in this room are monsters and they are happy to bleed their peers for their own short term gains.

Sebastian cannot help but feel uneasy as the young woman gets yanked, pinched and casually slapped over the following hours.

Jim reaches around and puts warning pressure on Sebastian's broader wrist. The muscled blond understands the warning, but struggles to hold back a growl when the criminal across the table gives an ugly, smug smirk.

Jim continues conducting the meeting with minimal stress tells until the smug man makes a particularly vile threat to the bored-looking teenager. “If this meeting is keeping you from something more pressing..?” Jim prompts icily.

The man stills and spreads his weight, pushing forward to lean across the wide table a little. “I'm not accustomed to being spoken to like that, sonny.”

Jim is normally crisply calm, but something in the way the brunet's body shifts leaves Sebastian unsurprised when Jim states, “Firstly, do not presume to refer to me thus, _Gramps_ if you want us to play friends. Secondly, you are not the only important man in this room, so no one here is going to feed your ego. As I told you before, either focus on contributing to this meeting or leave. That decision is currently yours.”

The older criminal sits back, then cracks the back of his hand so hard against the jaw of the young woman beside him her bone makes a distinctly unpleasant noise. The teenager continues to wear a bored, unsurprised expression.

“You're lucky you're one of Her boys or that would be you, little boy,” the man sneers.

Jim's jaw tenses. He sighs as though calming himself and swoops out his arms as though to adjust his cufflinks.

Sebastian barely has seconds to notice Jim has taken one of his guns, and is directing it at the man's face.

Sebastian could disarm Jim still. He doesn't.

The girl _continues_ to seem distinctly unsurprised as a considerable amount of brain matter splatters her face.

The men seated near her stand up first, exclaiming in alarm, indignation and shock. Sebastian throws Jim behind his own frame. “Now let's all calm down...” he warns.

The teenager sedately takes a gun from the body beside her and directs at the dead man's bodyguard, who seems ready to shoot. “ _No_ ,” she warns in heavily accented English.

He blinks and backs down, but the atmosphere around the table is wildly charged. One criminal draws a weapon on a further man; Jim surprises Sebastian by stepping away and directing his gun barrel at one criminal after another.

Sebastian has a hard job keeping Jim covered as merry hell breaks loose within the dubious conference room.

An aggressor stumbles within his range and Sebastian looks around for the source of the red hole in the man's torso.

“ _De nada_ ,” the young woman mutters. She sits down on the table nonchalantly and watches the fighting.

Sebastian nods and tries to drag Jim away from the chaos.

The brunet won't go. Sebastian is alarmed at the panting bloodlust and _distress_ shaping Jim's snarling face. The brunet does not stop until the room is dripping red and its contents mostly massacred. And it is so loud, then not at all.

“This wasn't supposed to be part of the plan,” Sebastian mutters.

Jim swallows then shrugs bitterly. He lifts human tissue from his suit.

The girl uncrosses her legs and drops down from the large table. “I'll tell your boss you had a bad day, shall I?”

Sebastian frowns. Her accent has entirely changed to something almost like Jim's. Southern Irish.

“Do what you like, Bait,” Jim mutters.

She rolls her eyes and walks towards the door in fishnets and a studded belt. Sebastian gets the distinct impression the pair know each other.

Before the blond can ask, Jim is pointing someone else's gun at the bare back of Bait's retreating form.

The teen's gait shifts but she makes no move to protect herself. She keeps walking and Jim stares after her with ragged breath.

He doesn't shoot.

When they are alone Sebastian snatches away the gun and pulls Jim close. “What _the fuck_ was that?”

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose and smears the patterns of blood flecks there. He does not respond verbally.

Sebastian swallows. “Right. Let's get you a bit more presentable then get you the fuck out of here, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst I'm still catching up slowly with updates, the first four chapters of Panjandrum's sequel ARE written, so eventually I should be posting at regular intervals again. Yay!


	28. Heatbeats and Dust

Jim might not easily admit it, but Sebastian's heartbeat is his favourite sound in the entire, wretched world. The brunet rests his head against Sebastian's large chest and feels his cheek stick to the other man's skin in the unseasonable heat of what promises to be a humid, grey day. 

Dust motes dance in the faint daylight creeping along the edge of the sloppily closed curtains. Human skin. Jim wonders whether the dust gathered atop the curtain pole (he is too short to see it, but he is certain some will be there) tastes distinctly of himself and Sebastian. Surely it would taste more strongly of Sebastian, with the bigger man having so much _skin_ to shed.

Jim wonders whether he is diluted in Sebastian's presence. Certainly he likes himself better when around the big, loyal lump. Jim feels himself stuck to Sebastian and wonders what it would be like to simply melt away into something better.

Jim wishes he could open up Sebastian's ribs and crawl inside, closing the bones around himself like a cage. Sebastian is so well built that even after putting on the weight Jim could probably still fit inside the blond if he tucked up his legs and breathed shallow breaths.

Jim imagines it. Warm bone would keep him separate from the world, safe, and contain him from damaging any more of it. All the while he would be able to listen to Sebastian's heart. Jim love, love, loves its sound. Sebastian's heart is bigger than Jim's and its beat sounds slower. It pulses in a dreamy, underwater way with an evident power underneath that calm pace.

Jim often makes a silent game of trying to match the beat of Sebastian's large heart. Even in a prone, supposedly relaxed, state, Jim's heart rate is so much more harried. It's quite often two or three times as swift as Sebastian's steady, reliable pace. When Jim cannot sleep he does the maths to compare the speeds and makes formulae to take into accord every flutter and fluctuation of Jim's anxious, erratic rabbit heart.

Jim has not slept much tonight. Sebastian is good at sensing Jim's disquiet and subconsciously responds with soothing hands and loving arms. The big man must be attuned to Jim's heart rate, or maybe his breathing, because Sebastian often wakes when he senses Jim's night is restless. Jim has tried to hide his disquiet this night by breathing slowly and forcing his body to relax as much as he can fake. The effort is enough to keep Sebastian asleep but does not stop him from crushing Jim close in protective cuddles.

Jim wishes the rest of the world outside would burn to ash and leave them alone together in peace. If they were alone… If they were alone, perhaps everything would be alright.

Except, the problem is not solely the outside. Jim creates trouble out of dust, and however blissful Sebastian's company is, if given enough time, he will surely find some way to catastrophically fuck everything up.

In sleep Sebastian trails his fingers over the love bite he has left on Jim's neck. Jim presses his eyelids tightly shut and refuses to cry.

Sebastian's eyes open. Jim must have held himself too tensely. The bigger man's foggy blue gaze flicks around then focuses on Jim with surgical clarity.

Sebastian squeezes Jim tightly.

Jim stares back and wishes he could ask Seb to fix this.

The blond strokes Jim's arm and starts to remember the events of the previous day. “Don't worry about it,” Sebastian states. “Are you alright?”

Jim does not know what to say. His face says, ' _No, I'm not_ ,' if the expression on Sebastian's own is anything to go by. The big blond waits but Jim cannot find the words.

“I'm here,” Sebastian reassures.

Jim throws his forehead against the big man's chest and burrows in silently. Sebastian curls a gentle palm over the back of Jim's scalp.

“I'll keep you safe,” the muscled blond swears. “Whatever's wrong, mo chroí, I'll keep you safe.”

Jim does not dare tell his lover that is not what he is afraid of.

The days feel disjointed and Jim does his best to work within the new rules he sets himself. He sends Sebastian out on job after job, feeling highly strung and sick whenever his blond returns home.

The sight of Sebastian starts to set Jim's nerves screaming. He has to get up and leave when Seb enters a room and Jim cannot sit still. He paces. Sebastian's proximity agitates him. Jim does not want to be touched. He washes and washes and washes his hands just from thinking of that, until Jim's hands are raw and dry flakes of skin are only prevented from fluttering away by the grace of congealing sores.

“Arty, what's wrong?” Sebastian demands, alarmed.

“Get out; get out; get out,” Jim mutters like a mantra, dashing across their home or pushing the big man away shakily.

“Sweetheart what's wrong?” Sebastian continues to press. “What have I done?”

“Not you; not you; not you,” Jim chants, his bared teeth shaking in a silent chatter of a not-laugh. He presses clawed fingers against his temples. “I need you to go out, Sebby. Buy milk. Go for a run. Just get out Seb. _Seb, I said Get Out!_ ”

“What the fuck, Jim?” Sebastian protests, aghast and uneasy. He's seen Jim unravel before, but not like this.

Jim abruptly darts at the bigger man's face. “GET THE FUCK OUT, TIGER!”

Sebastian steps back. If Jim wants him to leave so much he wouldn't say 'Tiger', would he?

Jim seems to read the thought on Sebastian's confused, uncomplicated face. “Fuck off, Basher,” the smaller man snarls.

Sebastian shakes his head and crosses his arms. “Like hell. I'm not going anywhere-”

Jim spins around and snatches up a knife from the counter. He swoops towards Sebastian and brandishes the large blade. “I'm telling you that you had best leave, got it?”

Sebastian gives the slight brunet a dry look. “You're about four inches from me giving you a time out, love.”

Jim pushes the blade three inches closer until it brushes the soft hairs on Sebastian's skin. “Just go. _Please_.”

Sebastian takes a slow step backwards in supplication. “I'll give you your space if that's what you want but I'm not leaving you like this.”

Jim makes a desperate noise of frustration. He throws the knife away in the direction of the sink and storms towards the door. “Fine, you stay. I need… I need to be alone.”

Sebastian makes an uneasy noise. “You can't go anywhere like this.”

“I can't be anywhere near you right now!” Jim gasps.

“Fine, explain later. I'll go,” Sebastian responds uneasily. “Just… Just be careful with yourself, alright?”

“I'm not going to _hurt myself_ ,” Jim responds disparagingly.

“Will you just tell me what's wrong?!” Sebastian blurts.

“WILL YOU JUST GO?” Jim counters.

“You _said_ never to leave you again,” Sebastian reasons.

Jim tries to push the much heavier man towards the lift doors. He cannot make Sebastian move and it agitates him further. Jim slumps at the muscled blond's feet, hyperventilating.

Sebastian drops down and takes a firm hold of Jim's torso, lifting the frantic man's chin to aid better breathing and rubbing strong circles in Jim's back. “Calm down. Shh, shh, shh; I've got you...”

Jim sprawls out his knees and gulps in air. “S'a bad idea Seb. S'bad...”

“Love. Calm down,” Sebastian commands.

Jim pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I know what I'm talking about!” he whines.

“Well I don't, but I know you,” Sebastian states. “Whatever the problem is, I should be at your side to face it.”

Jim looks up angrily. “I don't desire your pity, Basher; I require your absence!” 

“I'm not pitying you, you exasperating fuck,” Sebastian grumbles. “I'm _worried_ about you.”

“Don't be!” Jim chides. “Just, please, go away.”

Sebastian presses his lips together. He wraps his hand firmly around Jim's ulna, a callused thumb pressing into the thin man's radius. Jim widens his dark eyes as the huge man pulls him unwillingly to his feet.

Sebastian lets go and pushes Jim insistently towards the stairs. “Go take a shower and put your onesie on.”

Jim gives a perplexed look over his shoulder. “ _What_? I don't-”

“NOW, sweetheart,” Sebastian growls.

Jim takes a step back. “But-”

“I don't care,” Sebastian rebuts. “You can tell me later. Right now you're getting ready for bed, and I'm going to make you some supper.”

“It's not even bedtime,” Jim protests weakly.

“Did I ask for an argument, young man?” Sebastian scolds. “Go follow my instructions.”

“I don't want a spanking,” Jim says quietly.

“I'm not giving you one. You're getting an early bedtime so you can rest,” Sebastian explains.

Jim bites his lip. “I… I'm not dirty,” he says weakly.

Sebastian gives him a gentle nudge towards the stairs. “The hot water will make you feel a little better. Off you go. I'll bring you up some tea and a snack.”

Jim looks close to tears. “I'm not trying to be bad.”

“I know you're not,” Sebastian says more calmly than he feels.

Jim takes a few steps towards the staircase but shakes his head. “I'm trying to do what's best, Bash. You need to listen to me. You need to go...”

Sebastian snatches Jim up. “ _You_ need to remember that I would rather be dead than be apart from you.”

Jim's eyes water. “You won't want me.”

Sebastian feels ice drop in his gut but he keeps his expression steady. “Don't be fucking stupid.”

“Seb, please,” Jim says very quietly. “You won't love me anymore.”

Sebastian swallows then straightens. He pets Jim softly then pushes the small man away carefully. “Then you don't know me as well as you think. Go do as I've told you, love.”

Jim gives him a bewildered look. “Aren't you listening?” he gasps. “I'm _bad_.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes even though his heart is twisting. “You're a fucking idiot.”

“I'm a bad person, Sebastian!” Jim cries.

“Since when?” the blond shrugs.

Jim's voice cracks. “Since _always_.”

Sebastian raises his brows. “You think I haven't always loved you for exactly who you are? Fuck off.”

Jim's expression flickers. “You don't get it,” he responds quietly. “I'm-”

“Mine, for better or worse, so shut up, do as you're told, and get ready for bed, _brat_ ,” Sebastian retorts.

Jim runs a hand through his hair nervously. “But if I tell you-”

“Come on, love, don't make me bare that cute bottom,” Sebastian sighs gently. “Go get comfortable so I can bring you up something warm to fill your tummy. Then we can cuddle, and if you want to, we can talk.”

“But what if you don't love me?” Jim whispers. “You're not gonna love me.”

Sebastian taps the scars over his chest. “You stupid little prick, Arty, you could cut this heart right outta my chest and it would still beat for you.”


	29. A Man Could Take Umbrage

Jim is entirely uncertain how to feel as he shuffles upstairs towards the shower. Sebastian is probably right that the hot water might be soothing, but Jim rather wants to scratch his own skin right off and he is anxious, anxious, anxious.

He strips awkwardly and runs a shaky hand through his hair. He's trembling, and his hair's getting so long. It grows so much quicker now. As has his body. Jim is almost bewildered for a moment by the curve of his biceps as he grips his upper arms in tense, brooding silence. When did he fill out _so much_? He looks like a normal person now.

Which is ridiculous. Jim has a watery, choked off, somewhat manic chuckle to himself before shaking his head like a wet dog to dislodge what he cannot deny feels like rising hysteria.

Jim stumbles over to the shower and cranks the spray on sharply. He has to take a step back from the abrupt force of water on his hypersensitive skin. He feels dirty and guilty and stressed, _stressed, STRESSED_ …

Fuck. Jim twitches, suddenly noticing his arms sting. He blinks heavy water droplets from his eyelashes and tries not to grimace at the red lines of scratches down his arms. Sebastian won't like those.

Not that it matters, because Sebastian needs to leave. Jim is not a good person to be around.

The big blond's tread on the stairs makes Jim flinch and with gritted teeth the small man turns his arms under the spray to rinse away as much blood as possible. The little consulting criminal grabs a dark towel, sloppily switching off the shower, and stumbles through to the bedroom. Steam follows him through the door he leaves ajar.

Water drips from his hair along his nose and down his neck as Jim hurriedly snatches up his onesie and drags the towel erratically over himself.

He can smell the food. Jim blinks as he steps into his onesie and deduces Sebastian has made eggs again. It's a sensible choice with Jim's inability to swallow properly when he gets frantic like this.

Jim yanks his fleecy sleeves up over his damp shoulders, tensing his jaw to hold back a hiss, and zips himself up to the midriff so that he doesn't feel _totally_ clammy and disgusting being as poorly dried as he is.

His stomach burbles and Jim looks down at it, tense expression fading as he blinks owlishly at the flesh. He used to be so hungry he never _got_ hunger pains, but Sebastian still seems to understand when Jim will need to eat far better than the brunet does.

Sebastian slopes into their bedroom with a mug held out as a peace offering. It's steaming hot and smells comforting and Jim desperately wants to reassure that hopeful expression on the blond's handsome face.

Sebastian approaches slowly, his shoulders and arms curled specifically to radiate that he is not a threat, and sits down a respectful distance beside Jim. He holds out a spoon.

“Here. Eat.”

Jim almost wants to laugh, but it isn't funny. He wants to tell Sebastian that back in Ireland his grandmother would tut at his skinny frame and send him to fetch eggs from the feral neighbours who kept chickens in their close. She didn't have much money for meat, but she insisted lots of eggs would make them grow up big and strong. Him-

Jim feels sick. He pushes a palm into his face and shakes his skull, but Sebastian merely waits until the brunet takes a breath to compose himself.

“I can hear your belly from here, love,” Sebastian comments gently.

Jim looks over timidly and haltingly takes the spoon. Sebastian sees his shaking hands and scoots closer to hold the mug in reach without saying a word about it.

Jim doesn't dare lean against Seb's chest but he inhales the contents of the mug quietly and scrapes the spoon down the side. Chopped eggs and butter with a tiny bit of salt and it's so basic and Jim hasn't ever told Sebastian about this.

Sebastian's from money. How the hell would he know a heathen comfort food like this?

“S'protein,” Sebastian murmurs, and Jim is startled to discover he has asked the question aloud. “I ate a lot of eggs growing up to get this big. And I know you like to chew as little as possible when you're… tired.”

Jim looks at him askew over the rim of the mug. “I'm not cranky,” he says starkly. “I'm… legitimately concerned.”

“So we'll talk through it when you're ready and we'll fix it best we can,” Sebastian reasons.

Jim gives him a sour look. “Do you just have zero sense of self preservation, Mister Tiger Poacher?”

Sebastian chuckles softly and gives the smaller man a squeeze. Whatever jokey reply the blond might have said is stifled by the tight whimper Jim makes.

“Arty...” Seb says carefully.

Jim swallows, knowing he has been caught. He hums out response which is not nearly as innocent or noncommittal as he wants it to be.

“Are you sore?” Sebastian presses.

Jim drops his gaze tellingly. “It's...”

The bigger man tenses his jaw and takes away the mug, absently feeling a moment of satisfaction that Jim has wolfed down most of its contents. “Let's see. Now.”

Jim makes a noise of protest but does not move away. Sebastian pinches the lettering at the back of Jim's slack onesie but does not force the clothing's removal. That's Arty's choice still.

Jim bites his lip and rolls his shoulders slowly. The fabric drops down at once, exposing his sore skin.

Sebastian gives him what can only be described as a sad look. “Are you sore anywhere else?”

Jim looks up and shakes his head. It scares him a little how much relief and love he feels when Sebastian throws him onto his big thighs and curls his strong arms defensively around Jim's smaller frame.

The brunet slumps against Sebastian's broad, warm chest. “Stressed,” he confesses.

“I'm not blind, or stupid,” Sebastian whispers back gently.

Jim buries his face against the lovely boom of Sebastian's steady heart. “Totally stupid. You don't know when to leave.”

Sebastian kisses the top of Jim's head. “ _You're_ stupid if you think you can get rid of me.”

“You should go before I fuck things up badly,” Jim whispers, the words feeling like actual physical pain all the way up his chest over his tongue to his lips. “I can… Oh, Christ, Tiger, what I can _do_...”

Sebastian kisses Jim's wet scalp more firmly. “Not fucking likely. You're mine and whatever headfucks you bring our way I'll face with you.”

Jim twists his head and narrows his eyes at the bigger man. “You utter moron,” he sniffs in a way that to them both clearly means, ' _I love you_.'

“You're stuck with me,” Seb says dryly. “Now, do you want to sit here and I'll bring a first aid kit to you, or do you want me to carry you?”

“What happened to the one under the bed?” Jim asks.

Sebastian grins and kisses the bone just above the small man's cuts. “I don't think there's anything small enough in there for your skinny little arms.”

Jim chuckles despite the strain. “You're a prick, Sebastian Moran.”

“I'm _your_ prick,” Sebastian states confidently as he reaches for the kit. “And one of these days you're going to make me Sebastian Moriarty.”

Jim's expression flickers and Sebastian pulls out an antiseptic wipe. “Why the hell would you want to be stuck with me?”

“Uh, because you are the love of my life?” Sebastian scoffs. “Bear with me; this is going to sting a bit.”

“It stung when I did it too,” Jim says dryly. He watches as Seb cleans up his sore arms. “I still don't understand why you love me. You're handsome enough you could find someone with far less issues.”

“If I had selective hearing I'd point out that you just told me I'm handsome,” Sebastian quips. He scrunches up the rubbish and throws the wrappers successfully into the bin. Giving the brunet a kiss on the elbow, the big man leans up and says, “I think these are shallow enough that you don't need them covered. Will you be a good boy and not pick at them so they can heal nicely?”

Jim's lips twitch. Shyly he asks, “Will you punish me if I don't?”

Sebastian places the smaller man flat down on the bed and drops to his forearms above Jim. “Oh yes. You'll get an early bedtime every night this week, love, and I'll pin you down and kiss you all over so you can't _reach_ to interfere with them.”

Jim's breath catches in his throat and his eyelids flutter as Sebastian's breath caresses his skin. “You're freakishly good at getting your own way,” the brunet complains, but seems somewhat grateful.

“I got you, didn't I?” Sebastian purrs. “Perks of being, as you said, heart-stoppingly, mouth-wateringly, pants-droppingly handsome.”

Jim laughs brightly and slaps lightly at Sebastian's chest. The big man grins down at him.

“You're so full of yourself,” Jim says.

“You love it,” Sebastian says confidently. He raises his hips, arching his spine like a lion cub playing at being a hunter. Jim gently curls his fingers invitingly over the big man's blue veins.

Sebastian raises his brows. “You love _me_ ,” he whispers. He almost sounds surprised, as though every time he realises this it is an unexpected, perfect gift.

Jim blushes but does not try to hide it. “Course I do. Hard as I try, you're just… my whole life. No getting away from you.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Are you saying I'm like a bad dose of the clap? Because, sweetheart, a man could take umbrage.”

Jim snickers. “Sebby, fuck off. I'm not telling you that you're my best friend and our fates are written in the stars. That's gay as fuck and I'm just not built that way.”

“Said the twink to his handsome, wonderful, older lover,” Sebastian teases.

Jim yelps out in appalled mirth and swats Seb hard in the pec. “I've warned you about that word, _you prick_!”

“Oof! Oh no, I cannot hold myself up; I have been dealt a formidable blow. I shall just have to collapse right here, on top of this very beautiful little _twink_ of mine, and _squish him into submission_ , until he falls madly in love with me, and admits my prick is his reason for being...” Sebastian monologues playfully.

“How did you ever get laid before you paid for it?” Jim disparages. “Cunt, I can't breathe...”

“Yes you can or you wouldn't be able to make smart remarks like that which will prevent your twinky little perfect arse getting my tongue in it before I put you to bed like the silly little boy you are,” Sebastian responds chirpily.

Jim glowers, but he is holding the bigger man very close for someone who 'can't breathe'. “I'm going to start charging you again. And my rates have went up, motherfucker.”

Sebastian chuckles and squeezes Jim close. “How much for the obedient little boyfriend experience?”

Jim snorts. “You wouldn't know what to do with yourself!”

“Oh yes I would,” Sebastian retorts. “I'd marry you and tie you to the bed and be sickeningly gay with you and you'd love every second of it and wouldn't even be able to take the piss.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “You're almost four times my size and every inch the woman in this relationship.”

“That's both sexist and sizeist, for your information,” Sebastian sniffs, “and for someone who's supposedly so good with numbers you should know it's never in your best interest to heavily overestimate your future wife's weight, you rotten monster.”

“Oh Christ, you've got the dress picked out, haven't you?” Jim mocks.

“You couldn't afford it, swine,” Sebastian dismisses. “Luckily I have a rich Daddy who would probably kill himself if he knew I was going to make him pay for my very homosexual wedding.”

“How the fuck did you get into the army?” Jim snorts.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I sucked a lot of dicks and sucker punched a lot more. It's okay to be gay if you're bigger and stronger and smarter and a better shot with any weapon than every other twat in uniform.”

“Are you saying you didn't come to me untainted before we first laid together, Sebby? Because I might have to ask your rich Daddy for a refund,” Jim jokes.

“Are you saying I suck dick like a virgin, Sasslips?” Sebastian retorts.

“Well you certainly don't fuck like someone who knows what they're doing, is all I'm saying,” Jim deadpans.

“You're sleeping on the couch tonight! Cunt!” Sebastian chortles.

“A night off from your sad fumblings? Hallelujah,” Jim teases.

“Oh you're going to be sleeping on your tummy tonight, little boy,” Sebastian warns playfully.

Jim darts up and licks the bigger man's neck. “Promise?”

Sebastian's breath catches and he stares down at the love of his life. “Never change, mo chroí.”

Jim bites his lip shyly. “As long as you take off my clothes. Now.”

“Deal,” Sebastian agrees. He grabs for the white stripe of zipper that has been leaving indentations in his stomach.

Jim's workphone makes itself known.

“Motherfucker,” Sebastian groans.

Jim gives his lover a decidedly flustered and sympathetic look. “Drawbacks of fucking the rich and powerful, pretty boy.”

He reaches for his phone, but Seb snatches his wrist. “Oh no. You do _not_ get to call me 'pretty boy' then not slam your dick up my arse,” the blond growls.

“Consider it atonement for all those 'twink' comments,” Jim replies, twisting around and picking up the bleeping little gadget. 

“I'd much rather you spanked me,” Sebastian grumbles.

Jim's lips twitch in amusement and start to form a reply before the words on the screen cause his expression to fall.

Sebastian darts over instantly. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jim sighs unconvincingly. “It's just… sometimes Daddy would rather not go to work. You know the feeling, I'm sure.”

Sebastian is quiet for a beat. “Let me see. I'll do it.”

Jim gives him a surprised look. “I wouldn't do that to you.”

“You've had a stressful few days; you should take some time off,” Sebastian reasons. “I can manage for you for a little while.”

Jim draws his legs up defensively. “Sebby, this isn't...”

“Does this have something to do with that girl?” Sebastian asks abruptly.

Jim looks at the big man. Clearly Seb's been thinking over the past days, trying to determine the catalyst for Jim's meltdown. But Jim cannot tell him the truth. The brunet presses his lips together. “No. It's not really got anything to do with Bait.”

“You've met her before though, right?” Sebastian asks quietly.

Jim tenses. “Yes.”

“Did you work together?” Sebastian asks carefully.

Jim purses his lips. “She's not one of Mrs Halifax's girls.”

“You knew her on the streets?”

“Christ, no; she's from Cork,” Jim scoffs. He pauses. “I _think_ she's from Cork.”

“Not Italian?”

Jim shrugs. “I've seen her speak a lot of different languages.”

“So you've seen her a lot? With that creep?” Sebastian questions.

“Can we drop this?” Jim sighs. “It's nothing to do with her really.”

“I've never seen you act the way you did when he hit her,” Sebastian says quietly.

Jim looks stunned for a second. “Sebastian, are you _jealous_?”

“No,” the blond says stoutly. He hesitates. “I don't know...”

“Let's be clear,” Jim says with sudden firmness, “if that cretin – or _anyone_ \- laid a hand on you, I'd fucking skin them. Slowly. And feed them their body parts. Over a matter of months. Perhaps years. They'd never see sunlight again. They'd never resemble anything close to humanoid again. Understood?”

“Understood,” Sebastian says softly. He puts out his hand for the phone. “So can you let me do this job for you? So I can look after you right back?”

“Tiger, you spend your every waking breath looking after me,” Jim sighs.

“With a face and ass this good would you really deny me what I want?” Sebastian presses.

Jim chortles weakly. “Darling, I don't think you really understand what I do for a living these days.”


	30. Daddy Issues

It is late when Sebastian gets home. The doorman is drowsily taking a smoke with the very English old gent who mans the desk at odd hours. They are both unsurprised to see Sebastian at such an unsocial time but give the large man an uneasy look he does not expect.

It jars Sebastian out of his _just-get-the-job-done-and-get-home_ mindset. These men have been working here for years, and their familiarity usually breeds a lack of immediate fear. Both men have helped a pitifully drunk Sebastian up to his bed before, and the older man has seen Lord Moran clip Sebastian around the ear on several occasions.

Sebastian consciously loosens his posture. Does he look murderous tonight?

“Evening, lads,” he murmurs with a nod as he steps into the building.

They give him an odd look then seem to force themselves to respond politely. It makes Sebastian uneasy in a way he cannot name. He strides over to the lift and holds his key there until the button lights and the doors open. The big blond slumps against the mirrored wall of the elevator and sighs.

It has been an intense 'shift'. He had better get that off of his face before he meets Arty however. The little man is strung out and nervy enough already.

Sebastian brings his large hands up to his scarred face and massages the tired skin. It helps a little and he straightens his back again, blinking tiredly.

He steps out of the lift and blinks to see Jim's soft shape outlined on the couch.

“Baby, you should be in bed,” Sebastian comments, pulling off his leather jacket and hanging it up. “It's late.”

Jim rolls to the side, stirring, and rubs his dark eyes. “Was waiting up for you,” he says in a soft voice blurred by sleep.

“Well I'm here now, so let's get you upstairs,” Sebastian states. He crosses over to the smaller man and pulls him into strong arms easily.

Jim slumps over Sebastian's shoulder bonelessly. “You love me,” he mumbles.

The big blond smiles and nuzzles Jim's neck, bare beneath the black onesie. “I certainly do.”

Jim closes his eyes as Sebastian carries him upstairs. “I love you,” he whispers.

“Damn right you do,” his partner responds.

Jim smiles as Sebastian lowers him onto their bed. “You always look after me. Protect me.”

Sebastian pulls back the duvet and turns to look at the smaller man. “Of course I do.” 

Jim smiles softly then yelps quietly as Sebastian carefully grabs his small frame. Jim grins as Sebastian places him at the head of the bed and tucks the duvet around him. The brunet kisses Sebastian's jaw. “You know I don't need a daddy, right?” the younger man teases.

Sebastian blinks, straightens, and barks out a low, bewildered laugh. “Trust me, love, my father didn't treat me the way I treat you.”

Jim presses his lips together, because he doesn't want to say his either. “Where did you learn, then?” the brunet asks.

Sebastian hovers in confusion. “Learnt what?”

Jim settles on pillows and sweeps out a small hand to indicate the bed. “This.”

“Oh,” Sebastian says uncomfortably. He shrugs. “The staff came and went when I was growing up.”

“They must have loved you,” Jim murmurs sleepily. “Whoever it was who taught you.”

Sebastian shrugs and pulls off his outer clothing. “I guess. I was quite a naughty little kid, but I looked kind of cute. The blond hair and big blues, you know. Worked on some people.”

Jim's lips twitch. “You used your looks to get out of trouble?”

Sebastian chuckles dryly. “What, you think I wasn't pretty before I got these scars? I was a beautiful child.”

“You're still beautiful,” Jim murmurs.

Sebastian's lips fly into an abrupt, bright smile, before he rolls his eyes. In self-derision he responds, “I'm ruggedly handsome now, actually.”

“You're mine, is what you are,” Jim drawls firmly into his pillow.

Sebastian grins and slides into bed beside him. “Am I now?”

Jim lifts an arm and clenches his fingers in a grabby motion. Sebastian takes the hint and scoots closer, allowing the small man to wrap the arm around his own big frame before dipping a kiss onto Jim's hair.

“You haven't brushed your teeth,” Jim murmurs.

“I'll get back up once you're sleeping, love. I'm just cuddling you just now,” Sebastian responds.

“You need sleep too,” Jim scolds with his eyes closed.

“I know; I'll sleep soon,” Sebastian agrees. “I promise.”

Jim's voice almost seems to be melting into the pillow but he speaks on regardless. “Let me know if you can't sleep. I'll sit up with you. Make you breakfast in the morning...”

Sebastian kisses the man's temple and snuggles in. “Yes, mo chroí. Thank you.”

Jim makes a gurgled noise, asleep.

Sebastian smiles and watches over the slight creature. Jim is all pale, marbled skin barely dusted with rose pink along his cheeks and open lips and looks adorably snug in his fleece-lined outfit. The hood twists under his scalp hidden by fanned out sections of Jim's dark hair. Sebastian runs his fingers through the soft tufts and marvels at how the heat warms the chill in his own calloused fingers.

Jim sleeps heavily, his long, dark lashes barely fluttering. Sebastian feels an overwhelming wave of affection for the smaller man. It is so good to see Jim sleeping peacefully after the harsh panic the brunet had experienced earlier.

Sebastian kisses Jim's cheek. “I'll keep you safe,” he whispers.

Jim's lips curl trustingly at Sebastian's promise.

The big blond ruffles Jim's hair gently then eases away from the little man's frame. He pads through to the en suite to brush his teeth and has a look at his reflection. Whatever had made the men downstairs uneasy has gone from Sebastian's face now.

All the same, Sebastian cannot sleep. He worries about the beauty in his bed and merely sits up watching Jim's thin chest rise and fall under thick, dark fabric.

Jim's never been good at sleeping through the night and eventually he twists away, face scrunching. Sebastian rises to his elbows attentively. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

Jim makes an unintelligent noise and kicks away their blanket. He rubs his face grumpily then looks around at Sebastian, almost surprised.

“Sorry,” Jim whispers. “Did I wake you up?”

“Already awake,” Sebastian reassures. “Are you alright?”

“Just the same bad dreams,” Jim mutters, stepping out of the bed and stretching.

“What bad dreams?” Sebastian asks starkly.

Jim flinches guiltily. “Just dreams,” he mutters. “Just… Just means I need to get up and pee, is all. Nothing big.”

The big blond narrows his eyes skeptically at Jim's back as the slight man retreats to the toilet. Sebastian rubs sleep from his eyes and sits up again properly.

Jim returns sheepishly. Something odd glints down from the pocket of his onesie in the gloomy grey half-light.

“What's that?” Sebastian asks as Jim settles on the bed beside him.

The brunet flinches and even in the relative dark it is possible to see colour rush up his pale neck. Sebastian arches a brow and curls a finger around the chain hanging out over Jim's thigh.

“Is that..?”

Jim swallows audibly. “I… was trying to stay occupied… earlier. I found… Do you mind?”

Sebastian shakes his head and tugs his dog tags from Jim's pocket. “Not at all. Haven't seen these in a while.”

“I can put them back,” Jim says. “I just...”

“They remind you of me?” Sebastian murmurs.

Jim gives him a wary look and a slow, deep nod.

Sebastian takes the dog tags and pushes the chain carefully over Jim's head. “Anything of mines is yours, you know that.”

“Yeah, but these are from before me,” Jim mutters.

Sebastian shrugs. “I'm not precious about my past. You're my future.”

Jim curls his fingers around the chain. “Honest?”

Sebastian gives him a wry look. “I have you carved into my chest and my thigh. Bit silly if I was intending to ever be with anyone else.”

Jim looks up quickly and holds the tags in one small fist. “Hadn't thought like that,” he admits.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “You mean this isn't the face of someone who wants your babies?”

Jim chuckles. “I'll practice making them with you, Tiger, but I fear you might become disappointed.”

Sebastian wraps an arm around Jim and cuddles in. “As if I could ever feel that around you.”

Jim lies down against the bigger man and strokes his face silently. The dog tags clink against each other as they slide along the chain towards the mattress.

Sebastian huffs a smile against Jim's chest. “There was a point where I couldn't sleep without hearing a bunch of other men's tags clinking, you know.”

“What changed?” Jim asks.

Sebastian smiles against the other man's neck. “I met you.”

Jim is quiet for a very long time. Sebastian can tell the brunet has not fallen asleep by the thickness in the air: there is a tension of something frozen on Jim's tongue. Sebastian soothingly rubs a large hand from the back of Jim's scalp, down the man's spine, and waits.

“It's happened before, you know,” Jim abruptly confesses. Sebastian gives Jim's neck a confused look and waits. The brunet continues, “When I just snap.”

Sebastian nods and pets the slight man reassuringly. “Did something trigger it?”

Jim nods. To Sebastian's surprise, he sniffs hard and twists around to bury further into Sebastian's grip.

“What happened?” the big blond asks.

“...Heard from The Crocodile,” Jim mumbles.

Sebastian blinks. “The Crocodile? The woman who kills people?”

“Who writes our cheques, metaphorically,” Jim mutters.

Sebastian blinks. “What does she want with you? Are you safe?”

Jim's next words come out in a rush. “She says my brother's not dead.”

Sebastian almost sits up, but then he merely strokes Jim's back instead. “And you believe that?”

“She's never lied to me before,” Jim mumbles into Sebastian's chest.

“When have you spoke to her before?” the blond queries.

Jim swallows. “A lot? I've been working for her since you went to prison. I mean, you were already working for her, but I met her face to face when you were inside.”

Sebastian kisses Jim's neck. “I'm never leaving you alone again,” he grumbles softly. “Look what happens when I drop the ball...”

Jim giggles weakly. “I told you: I'm a trouble magnet.”

“My trouble magnet,” Sebastian amends. He pulls Jim closer and strokes dark hair. “So your brother? I didn't know you had-”

“We haven't been brothers in a long time,” Jim blurts.

“Did he hurt you?” Sebastian demands. “Because if you're scared, I'll-”

“ _No_ , I...” Jim's voice cracks. Sebastian can feel the little man's heart racing.

“Tell me what happened,” the blond commands gently.

Jim pushes into Sebastian's chest hard, as though he might burrow right under the bone and hide. “I… Our father used to punish him. When I did something wrong. We… he couldn't forgive me,” the brunet admits rawly.

Seb kisses Jim's scalp, rubbing a thumb over the big scar there. “So you left?”

Fingers wrap desperately in Sebastian's pale chest hair. “When I was about fifteen,” Jim says.

“Two years before I found you,” Sebastian clarifies.

Jim nods gingerly.

“He's just out there alone? Your brother?” Sebastian asks. 

Jim gives that familiar shrug against the other man's broad chest which is telling in its feigned casualness. “We... were born disposable.” 

“Don't give me that,” Sebastian chides.

Jim stiffens. “What do you mean?”

“Your da knocked fuck out of you and your brother until you decided you'd rather put your arse on the streets. Your brother stayed with your da, and apparently that's bad enough you thought he'd be dead by now. Obviously that bothers you,” Sebastian reasons.

“It was a long time ago,” Jim protests.

“It was a few years,” Sebastian says, sitting up and pulling the other man up with him. “You don't just-”

“It doesn't matter!” Jim insists.

“It does, or you wouldn't have shot up a room of influential people,” Sebastian points out.

Jim looks away.

“So,” Sebastian says commandingly. Jim looks up. “What do you want to do about this stuff?”

Jim grimaces. “Nothing.”

Sebastian arches a brow. “I don't believe you.”

Jim pulls back quickly. “I'm not a liar!”

Sebastian yanks him back calmly. “Of course you're not. But you do want to do something, or you wouldn't be letting it get to you like this. We'd have spoken it over and moved on before it got to you almost getting yours- almost getting _us_ killed.”

Jim swallows. “I don't… I don't know what I want, okay?”

“Do you want to see your brother?” Sebastian asks.

“No!” Jim says quickly.

“Do you know what I just heard there, love?” the blond asks.

Jim squirms and shakes his head.

“It _sounds_ like you feel guilty and afraid,” Sebastian states. 

“What have I got to feel guilty about?” Jim snarls. “I couldn't _help_ what he did to him!”

“And yet look how much your back's up,” Seb reasons. 

“What's your point?” Jim snaps.

“You want your brother's forgiveness, whether you were at fault or not. And I already know your old man was an abusive prick, so it probably wasn't your fault. So. Are we leaving your brother to deal with things by himself, or are we going to get in touch?” Sebastian asks.

Jim swallows. “He… He won't want to talk to me, Seb. It was… Things were real bad. I got him hurt real bad.”

“Maybe, but he hasn't seen you in years, has he?” Sebastian reasons. “How do you know what he thinks now?”

“I don't,” Jim admits.

“So we'll try to get in touch, and we'll see what happens,” the older man asserts.

“But… What if he doesn't want me?” Jim whispers.

“Then you haven't lost anything new and either way you'll still always have me. You're never alone,” Sebastian declares. He pets the brunet lovingly. “I've _always_ got you.”

“Why the hell would you want me?” Jim asks. “You're always so-”

“Arty, I'm only in a good place because you make everything brighter,” Sebastian interrupts. “Whether you see it or not, you're absolutely the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“I _killed_ my Da!” Jim protests. He freezes.

Sebastian hardly blinks. “Of course you did, love. I've seen what he did to your fucking shoulder, never mind the rest of you.”

“Richie always got it worse,” Jim whispers. “I was always so bad. I tried, _I really tried_ , but I couldn't help it...”

“Your da was a vicious, nasty bastard,” Sebastian insists. “He made up excuses to abuse you both. That's not your fault, or Richie's; it's all his. And now he's gone.”

“Why do you believe me?” Jim whispers.

“Because I know you, you idiot,” Sebastian responds. “You're not _bad_. I mean, we're both royally fucked up, but none of that shit's your fault. Course it isn't.”

“Why do you never judge me?” Jim asks.

Sebastian finally rolls his eyes. “I murder people for money. Why do you keep thinking I'm some sort of paragon of morality?”

“Because you're the best person I've ever known,” Jim says reasonably.

Sebastian pauses, then rolls his shoulders, suddenly embarrassed. He kisses Jim's hair to hide his confusion. He doesn't know what to say.

“So that girl..?” Sebastian mumbles.

Jim leans into his broad chest. “Bait.”

Sebastian nods and wonders why he likes Jim curling his fingers in those blond chest hairs so much. “Bait. When that prick hit her..?”

“Because he wanted to hit me? Yeah. That was a trigger,” Jim admits. He shivers a little, but only has a moment of feeling stupid about it before strong fingers wrap around him.

Sebastian pulls Jim close, dog tags jingling as he does. “No one's going to touch you without me ripping their fucking throat out.”

Jim smiles and kisses Seb's chest, the coarse hair gripped closely in his fist. “I know, love.”


	31. What Is This, That This Is?

Sebastian groans loudly as Jim's phone wakens them. “Can't we ever just… snuggle, without one of our damned masters calling?”

Jim gives the exasperated blond an amused look and peels away from Sebastian's chest. Picking up the phone, Jim comments, “It's an assigned tone, or didn't you notice?”

“Meaning what?” Sebastian grumbles. “It's someone even more important we have to kowtow to?”

“Firstly, Tiger, we're not going to _kowtow_ forever. Daddy's going places,” Jim states with a wink. He shows Sebastian the phone screen. “And your mum's coming over, so you might want to at least run a cloth over yourself.”

Sebastian blinks and reads the text. “ _My_ mum?” He sits up. “Why the fuck is she texting you?”

“Probably because you don't text her sufficiently,” Jim scoffs. 

Sebastian takes the phone and scrolls upwards. “How long have you two been talking?”

“A while,” Jim shrugs. “Sebby, you seem to be missing the most pertinent part: your mother is coming over, and you have my bodily fluids dried into your chest. And lower.”

“I've smelt worse than this,” Sebastian says dismissively. He scans the text conversation incredulously.

“That poor woman.” Jim takes back the phone. “Get up and take a damned shower. I mean it.”

“Trust me; her expectations for me are low,” Sebastian protests. He tries to take back the mobile.

“Even more reason not to show her how much your chest hair is matted with my jizz,” scolds Jim. “Up, now.”

“Do we have time to fuck?” Sebastian asks.

Jim swats him. “Get in the bloody shower, Sebby, I swear to God...”

Sebastian groans but swings his legs over the side of the bed, which may have seen a fair bit of action earlier. “Are you at least going to join me?”

“No, because then we'll fuck, and I don't want your mum walking in on that,” Jim retorts. “Besides, I showered before I fell asleep, because you used half a bottle of lube in my arse last night.”

“If the choice is shower sex that is momentarily interrupted by my mother, or no sex at all, I know which one I'd prefer,” Sebastian protests.

“Go wash, you dog,” Jim orders, lips twitching a little.

“I might be disgusting, alright, but you've slept on top of this mess all night,” Sebastian points out. “You should shower too.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You're taking too long. She's going to think I don't look after you.”

“My mum doesn't think you make me wash,” Sebastian scoffs.

Jim raises a brow. “Doesn't she?”

“I'm not that useless!” the blond complains.

“Your mum knows _I'm_ a good boy who doesn't need to be told to bathe or put clean clothes on in the morning,” Jim replies pointedly.

“Excuse you, I wake plenty early and I'm the one who makes this bed every day. And the breakfast. I'm civilised,” Sebastian counters.

“When was the last time you called your mother?” Jim deadpans.

Sebastian is silent. He narrows his eyes, but heads to the en suite with his only retort a pillow thrown lightly in Jim's direction.

Jim rolls his eyes and follows after the bigger man to brush his teeth. “You've got something stuck to your thigh. Could be lube. Could be me.”

“You're a drooler; it's probably you,” Sebastian teases. Jim arches a brow and pointedly runs the taps hard to prevent the shower getting warm.

Sebastian scoffs and swats the smaller man's bare bottom before leaning over Jim to switch the water off. “Brat.”

Jim grins and reaches for his toothbrush. “Don't call me that in front of your mum. She'll think we have issues.”

“ _You text my mum_ ,” Sebastian snorts. “I'd say it's patently obvious you have issues, Mummy's Boy.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Your mum's brilliant, ungrateful swine.”

“You can have her if you want her,” the blond offers from beneath a spray of tepid water. “I'm pretty sure she likes you better anyway.”

“Would hardly be difficult,” Jim teases. He runs the hot tap again to fill the sink and chortles at Sebastian's resultant curses. The bigger man retreats from the cold shower and grabs a towel as Jim performs swift ablutions.

“My mum's bound to have a hairbrush in her bag, just so you know,” Sebastian warns in a faux-grumble.

Jim smirks. “You think out of the two of us _I'm_ likely to be the one getting a sore bottom? Your mum _loves_ me.”

Sebastian pulls the brunet against his damp chest firmly. “Trust me, you smug prick, I'll be bending you over my thigh before this day's out.”

Jim's lips twitch. “Yes please, but not in front of your mother.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “She loves you so much she'd probably rush to your defense.”

“Can't blame her really,” Jim smiles.

Sebastian grimaces and trundles through to the bedroom to pull on last night's jogging bottoms. Jim follows and tuts.

“Really, Sebby? Put some effort in.”

The bigger man gives Jim a faux withering look and reaches into a drawer for a matching, clean teeshirt.

“Your mother clearly had the patience of a saint bringing you up,” Jim scoffs.

“She wasn't really around for the raising or disciplining part, mostly,” Sebastian comments. “The nannies weren't allowed to blister me too hard, and the whippings the Honourable Lord gave me usually made me more determined to do the complete opposite of what he wanted.”

“Poor little rich boy,” Jim teases with a grin.

Sebastian smirks back. “You're pretty rich yourself these days, and your arse gets reddened on the regular.”

Jim sticks his tongue out briefly. “I'm going to tell your Mammy that you've been picking on me, vulgar brute.”

Sebastian splutters. “Don't even joke about it. I'm serious about her having a hairbrush in her bag.”

Jim gives a clear, mirthful giggle, but takes pity and focuses his attention instead on dressing himself.

Sebastian sighs and pads over. “I want to fuck you when you look like this,” he purrs, dropping down to suck Jim's earlobe.

The corners of Jim's mouth flick upwards but he tries not to look amused. “We don't have time for that,” the brunet scolds.

“Hey, if I'm going to get a sore bottom this morning I might as well be hung for a sheep than a lamb, right?” the blond reasons.

Jim rolls his eyes and ignores the comment. “Let me guess: you had a Northern nanny,” he says of the phrase.

Sebastian pouts and runs circles with his thumbs over Jim's sensitive hipbones. “You're not even a little tempted?”

“I'm tempted to tie you up and punish you after your mother's visit, if that's what you mean,” Jim scolds without ire.

“You could text her to go away and we could skip right to that part,” Sebastian suggests.

Jim chuckles and slaps the big man's bicep. “You're such a horrible brat. Look at the age and size of you, Sebastian Moran.”

“You're right; you should change me right back into my jammies and give me an early bedtime,” Sebastian teases with a hopeful expression. “If I'm grounded I can't reasonably have visitors.”

Jim snatches the collar of Sebastian's crew neck and gives the blond a wicked look. “Trust me, Seb, you're not going to like it if I bend you over our bed and your mother walks in on you hollering as I take a folded belt to your bared arse.”

“Send my mother away and I'll even let you spread my cheeks after,” Sebastian retorts.

“Your mother won't bat an eye if she finds me washing your mouth out with soap,” Jim warns playfully.

Sebastian pouts and starts to reply, before they notice the sound of the lift mechanisms working in the otherwise quiet building. The big man groans.

Jim grins and tugs Sebastian's wrist. “Come on, brat. I swear it won't be too painful.”

“Give me a minute,” the blond sighs.

Jim arches a brow. “Tiger-”

“I'm half-hard,” Sebastian grumbles. “I'll be down in a sec.”

“The stairs or..?” Jim teases with a sparkle in his amused, dark eyes. He slaps the toned man's bottom. “Hurry up. I don't want to leave your mum waiting.”

Sebastian gives the smaller man a reproachful look. “I'm _trying_...”

Jim rolls his eyes and reaches up to take his lover's face in his slender hands. “Tiger.”

The touch is welcome and intimate and does not help Sebastian's problem at at. A dusting of pink begins to rise up his large throat as Jim's scent makes the bigger man almost dizzy with desire. Jim's eyes are dark and deep and…

Disturbingly serious. Sebastian's shoulders tense.

Jim shows sharp teeth. “Basher, I want a divorce.”

Sebastian flinches, and the heat pooling in his stomach swirls away into something coiled cold and hurtful.

Jim scoffs softly and tugs the bigger man by the wrist. “You're embarrassingly predictable.”

Sebastian swallows. His problem is dealt with, but he can feel his face flaming as Jim leads him down their stairs. What an embarrassingly telling reaction to such trickery. Sebastian presses his lips together. He doesn't want to admit to himself that Jim's manipulation excites him: Jim has a power over Sebastian that thrills the blond.

Jim hops down the last step as though actually excited to see Mrs Moran. Sebastian eyes the brunet with interest and twists his wrist out of the small man's hand, sliding down to entwine their fingers instead.

Jim looks over his shoulder at the bigger man and gives Sebastian's hand a squeeze. Longer legs make it easy to catch up and Sebastian meets Jim's side.

Mrs Moran has already seated herself on the extravagant sofa, although her cold poise does not suggest she has made herself comfortable. She deigns to turn her head at the footsteps behind her and Sebastian thinks he catches an instant where she softens at the sight of them, but then the look is swiftly tidied away. Ordinarily if he noticed such a look at all he would dismiss the absurd fancy, but…

There have been a number of such looks recently.

Sebastian tells himself not to think about it. Jim is shyly detaching himself and creeps closer to Mrs Moran as though desiring an embrace. Sebastian watches, uncertain how to feel, as his mother kisses Jim's cheeks then pulls the brunet into what is, for Mrs Moran, an uncharacteristically warm hug.

Jim closes his eyes at the touch. Despite the blond's confusion, Sebastian feels good watching the contact. ' _You're welcome to her_ ,' Sebastian had said so flippantly. He feels odd about that now.

Whilst Jim is normally positively greedy for Sebastian's touch, in general the brunet hates physical contact. The way the younger man's head slumps onto Mrs Moran's shoulder speaks volumes to Sebastian.

“Darling boy,” Sebastian's mother praises Jim. The brunet clearly tries to fight the stupidly pleased smile which spreads across his face, but he cannot help but give the woman a nakedly fond look as she steps away.

She approaches Sebastian and the blond is uncertain what to feel as his mother air kisses his cheeks. She straightens the rumpled neckline of her son's teeshirt. Her fingers brush his skin familiarly as she does. Sebastian feels oddly reassured by the way the touch lingers a fraction longer than necessary.

“Good to see you,” the man says stuntedly. The words feel lost on his tongue.

Mrs Moran looks surprised. Perhaps she heard some shred of sincerity Sebastian meant in his chest but didn't hear with his own ears. For a moment he is astonished to observe he seems to have made her speechless at last, but his mother recovers gracefully.

“Thank you, son.”

The words are plain, but without the usual inflections. That lack is a loud one. The words are honest.

Sebastian feels disconcerted. Perhaps noticing, his mother steps back again to allow his mind to breathe. Mrs Moran pinches Jim's nose softly, drawing the young man to her again, and flicks her gaze back to her uneasy, broad-shouldered son. “Sebastian, be a lamb and make yourself useful with the tea things, will you?”

“Shall I be mother?” Sebastian asks cattily. He regrets the words at once. He has forgotten how not to snark at her.

Mrs Moran fixes her eyes on him and her painted lips curl thinly. “Heavens, certainly. You surely think yourself more qualified for it.”

Sebastian starts to roll his eyes as he walks to the counter. “I'd know what not to do.” He stops and flashes his mother a look over his shoulder. “Sorry,” he states bluntly.

Mrs Moran gives him another baffled look before waving her thin hand at him dismissively. “I put a cake on the side for you.”

Sebastian looks at his mother instead of the delicious social nicety. “I'll cut us a bit, shall I?”

“Mind your fingers,” she murmurs. Mrs Moran leads Jim back to the couch and sits him down. He's a clever enough boy: he can analyse what Sebastian says and what he means, even now. All the same, Jim feels an odd sort of longing at the strange, strained relationship his companions exhibit. It's not jealousy exactly, but it is a want. A peculiar sort of hunger Jim had thought he had stopped feeling pangs for years ago.

“Now, James,” Mrs Moran says calmly, “how are you now? Shall we talk about your wobble?”

With a clatter, Sebastian drops the teaspoon he had been clutching over the teacups. Ignoring the scattered sugar crystals, the blond spins around to look at Jim.

The brunet has shrugged. “I'm better,” Jim states carefully. “Sebastian helped me talk things over. I'm… better in my head now.”

“He's a good boy,” Mrs Moran says without teasing inflection. “That being said, young man, there were a lot of dangerous people in that room with you both. You must be more careful.”

Sebastian struggles to comprehend his mother's understanding of recent events. Surely Jim would not have told her? The big blond cannot help but turn to Mrs Moran and blurt, “ _Qu'est-ce qu c'est_?”


	32. Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been training in central Europe with access only to the most temperamental wifi connection ever. I've got a few days off now I'm back in the UK so updates should be regular again. Hooray!

“Qu'est-ce qu c'est?”

When the words leave Sebastian's mouth Mrs Moran's eyelids drop lower as though she is tacitly building a wall against the question. For a moment Sebastian anticipates his mother will not deign to answer; she opens her shrewd eyes sharply and crisply responds, “Oblivious as you might be, it _is_ my responsibility as your mother to be wise to my boys' exploits.”

Sebastian cannot tell whether she means _him_ or Jim or even Severin, or some combination of those, and Jim seems like a foil to Sebastian's perplexed state. The brunet seems so _calm_.

Sebastian feels the contrast keenly as he belatedly flounders to his mother, “Since _when_?”

Mrs Moran hears the insult but merely gives him a dry, superior look. The big blond has seen that one all his life. “Since Rawdon was grown enough to get himself into mischief,” the woman responds. “Did you think yourself original in your tastes for anything unsavoury?”

Sebastian crosses his strong arms doubtfully. “What we do is hardly on parre with anything Rawdon got into, surely.”

“He was an advantageous equipment for navigating _your_ upbringing,” Mrs Moran retorts guardedly.

Something about the comment does not sit right with Sebastian: perfect Rawdon Moran lived and died as Augustus' faultless son. What could that upstanding young officer have in common with him other than their bloodline and the occupation of killing people for a living?

Mrs Moran runs her analytical gaze over Sebastian's broad form and sighs. “Bastian, the tea, please. We are all waiting.”

Sebastian feels himself tense with frustration but he does not know what to say. He turns away and obeys.

Mrs Moran brushes her thumb just barely over her son's thick hand as she accepts the saucer he has laden with the cake she will barely touch.

The gesture does little to settle Sebastian.

His gaze flicks to Jim as the brunet accepts a small plate from his other hand. Sebastian cannot tell whether Jim knows something he doesn't (surely not in _this_ circumstance, but the brunet is so terribly _clever_ sometimes.)

Jim gives Sebastian an unperturbed smile and raises his brows a little in a pointed gesture. The bigger man has seen the expression many times before in far different environments. When working this expression of Jim's means, 'Calm yourself. There is no need to psyche yourself out.' On occasions there is a softening of the tight skin around Jim's dark eyes after this instruction. That addition is present now, and Sebastian knows it means, 'Okay, love?'

Sebastian lowers his gaze briefly in quiet acknowledgement and drops himself reluctantly onto their couch.

Mrs Moran gives an almost imperceptible nod to her son for sitting. Sebastian's shoulders loosen just slightly.

His mother turns and fixes a suddenly nervous Jim with a mildly stern look. “Now where were we, James?”

Jim cringes in on himself and looks up at the frowning woman warily. Sebastian finds the caught out little boy look a million miles away from Jim's coldly calculating work persona, but is hard to find the contrast amusing when his mother's presence looms.

“James?” Mrs Moran prompts warningly.

Jim casts his eyes down. His breath is suddenly coming fast. “I… At work, I… made a poor decision,” the ordinarily eloquent little criminal says. He anxiously looks up at Mrs Moran with poorly concealed fear of her rejection or ire, and a visible desire for her reassurance and forgiveness.

It makes Sebastian feel odd.

The woman takes Jim's wrist firmly and pulls his small, sweating hand to herself to squeeze it scoldingly. “Remind me, pet, whatever did I warn you would be the consequence of worrying me?”

Jim greys. His heart is in his mouth, holding back his saliva, as he mumbles chokingly, “I'd… You'd give me, um...”

“I would certainly say risking the lives of my two babies is indubitably being desirous of a hot, red, little posterior, would you not, James?” Mrs Moran questions.

Jim squirms. His stomach is curling in entirely different knots from the ones usually prefacing a spanking from _Sebastian_ Moran.

Jim scrunches up his face, feeling ridiculous, and uncomfortable, and _loved_ , and bravely lifts his face. His dark eyes open on a surprisingly protective-looking Sebastian. Far from offering to fetch the imagined contents of his mother's handbag, Sebastian haltingly puts his large hand on the bony nub of Mrs Moran's thin wrist.

“Mum,” the big blond beseeches, “don't. He was upset. Jim didn't mean to.”

Mrs Moran gives Sebastian an amused, vaguely approving look. “Don't be premature, 'Bastian. It is not a pleasant habit and you already have a selection of vices.”

Sebastian gives her a dubious look.

Mrs Moran turns back to Jim. “As I was saying, I did promise to deal with you like a _naughty little boy_ , James. _However_ , I am aware of my son's assertion that as a mother I have often been quick to punish but slow to support."

Sebastian looks nakedly astonished. Jim would laugh at the handsome expression if he wasn't personally experiencing a lot of strange, jumbled emotions.

“As such,” Mrs Moran continues, “you can very much consider this your _final warning_ , young man. For now, we shall examine your behaviour, shall we?”

Jim lifts his gaze from his gripped hand to better read the woman's face.

“You do not… make such a mess, shall we say, without motivation,” Mrs Moran states. “It's time you told me face to face more about this wretched wobble of yours.”

Jim looks startled then swiftly ashamed. “I don't-”

“ _James_ ,” Mrs Moran intones chidingly.

Sebastian shifts besides them. “He told you, Mum: we've sorted it. He's fine; it won't happen again.”

“Well if it is as 'sorted' as you say, neither of you will mind telling me all about it,” Mrs Moran responds.

Sebastian looks at Jim's tight, lost posture then blurts, “Mum, really, leave it be.”

His mother fixes the older boy with an unyielding look. “You're not too big to be bent over with your bottoms around your ankles, Sebastian.”

An amused, perverted laugh escapes Jim's lips. Horrified, he tries to quell it at once, but the pair turn to look his way.

“Oh, how perfect you are for 'Bastian,” Mrs Moran says dryly. It is not a compliment but it makes the boys smile regardless.

“I'm sorry,” Jim apologises swiftly.

“I'm sure,” the woman drawls. She gives each of them a droll look. “Now, are you pair likely to tober up and explain obediently what happened, or am I going to have to start counting as though I am dealing with a pair of small boys?”

Jim's expression wavers.

“It's personal,” Sebastian interjects. “He was upset, but-”

“Sebastian, you both could have died in dishonourable circumstances for which I would have far too much trouble dealing with, as you know your father wouldn't lower himself to lend a hand in it. I have every right to know what is unfolding for my own kin,” Mrs Moran warns.

Jim fusses with his thin fingers, tugging on his joints anxiously. “...Family stuff,” he says quietly.

Mrs Moran pulls his hands apart wordlessly to avoid Jim hurting himself. “One does not take family disputes into the workplace, James.”

“I know,” Jim replies.

She flashes intelligent eyes over him. “Do you need assistance?” she asks.

Jim blinks. He's so unused to the offer, to the open gaze and frank gesture.

Sebastian is surprised by Jim's hesitance. They don't rely on others. It took so long for Jim to even trust Sebastian…

Jim seems to roll words around in his mouth before deciding to speak. “What… what do you do when someone hates you?”

“A family member?” Mrs Moran queries with a sharpness that makes Sebastian wonder at the content of the texts between the pair. His mother catches Sebastian's gaze for a moment; he quickly looks away.

“I hurt my brother,” Jim announces hollowly. “Badly.”

Mrs Moran rocks her head in consideration. “He might not forgive you at first,” she states, “but if you don't do a thing, how can he know how you feel?”

“Am I loveable?” Jim blurts uncharacteristically. “Am I… worth anything? Likeable at all?”

Stomach twisting, Sebastian expects at best a dry witticism about net worth from his mother. He cannot understand why Jim would ask such a raw thing of his harpy mother.

Instead Mrs Moran takes a firm grasp of Jim. “You're a Moran,” she states strongly. “You don't need _anyone_ to like you; you are worth more than any of them.”

Jim gives a stilted, wide eyed nod.

Sebastian grabs the small brunet's hand. “As for loveable...”

Jim gives a tremulous smile.

Mrs Moran clucks her tongue and squeezes Jim's knee. “Foolish child. Eat your cake and stop fretting.”

The brunet nods. “Sorry for fussing,” he says quietly.

Mrs Moran halts him with a look. “Never doubt that you can speak to me when you are troubled.”

Jim's eyes soften and he leans gingerly into the woman's touch. Sebastian cannot help but smile at them. Mrs Moran catches his blue eyes and he feels bewildered by her expression.

Surely that was not an invitation she would also extend his way? 

The woman whispers French endearments in Sebastian's ear when she finally leaves. He instantly feels embarrassed that she had noticed his lapse into her language earlier. It has been a very long time since he has spoken to her in the tongue she once on rare occasions soothed him with.

After his mother has left Sebastian does not know what to make of things. Jim is oddly clingy and meek, a much less adventurous version of the brunet's ordinarily mischievous self.

Sebastian does not mind the weight against his strong chest. He pets Jim's dark hair. “I think I'm escaping that belt whipping you promised earlier.”

Jim looks up through his lashes. “Just want you close,” he explains.

Sebastian kisses the large scar on the smaller man's scalp. “I can do that,” the blond reassures.

“I… miss him,” Jim says suddenly.

The big blond pulls his limpet close and moves his lips to cover Jim's forehead. The little criminal burrows closer still.

“What do you think he'd think of me?” Jim asks the hollow of Sebastian's throat. His breath is hot; his words hesitant.

“Successful,” Sebastian states, thumbing Jim's expensive shirt. He kisses Jim's ear and crown. “Loving. Clever.”

“What if he tells you I'm awful?” Jim whispers. “Says you're stupid to care about me?”

“Then I'll tell him he doesn't know who you are now,” Sebastian says stoutly. “I'm not wrong about you.”

“You think I'm worth anything?” Jim mutters.

“You've got an empire and a family, Arty, what else could you need to show him?” Sebastian responds.

“A family?” Jim flounders.

Sebastian arches a brow. “You think my mother has ever willingly swapped numbers with my old girlfriends?”

Jim looks stunned then confused. “What's special about me?”

The blond snorts. “How about everything, mo chroí?”


	33. A Kidney Or The Like

It occurs to Sebastian that this heavy secret was ubiquitous in Jim's struggle to form a bond with him during their entire life together. Every struggle in their relationship and every fear Jim had, every doubt, every bizarre reaction, came down to the pervasive impact Richard had had on Jim's psyche. The twins' father had dealt a far more significant blow than the one to Jim's shoulder when he had set Jim and Richard against each other.

Jim is anxious on the morning of their flight but closed off by the time they land in Ireland. His gait seems to both loosen and tighten in some freakish reaction to being around his countrymen, as though Jim suddenly feels at home and knows that does not truly spell comfort for him.

Sebastian had imagined Richard as some blurred creature part Jim and part Bait. He pictured a slight, pale young Irishman with half-dead, calculating eyes and a jagged sort of sexuality. Sebastian imagined vivid scars, worse than Jim's, because Arty ran away and this poor little bastard stayed. Sebastian imagined an eloquent creature in stolen designer clothing with almost as many holes from cigarette burns as there are circular scars on his skin. Sebastian imagined a man who analyses every word and movement and stares at the increasing _tick-tick-tick_ of your jugular when you bore him because he has seen death yawn before him and he has little qualms about getting a faceful of your blood should he choose to tear your naked throat open.

Sebastian did not expect Richard.

Judging by the way Jim flinches upon first sight, he did not fully feel prepared for Richard's presence either.

Richard does not even glance Sebastian's way at first. With his broad, dominating figure Sebastian is unused to this inattention. The men who pretend to ignore him during working hours as they spread their own bodyguards out about themselves always at least give Sebastian an assessing once-over.

Richard focuses entirely on Jim. Richard is physically soft and unkempt in ill-fitting jeans and scuffed, cream Converse and a hideous cardigan too oversized even for Sebastian and this brunet's hair is wilder than Sebastian could ever have imagined Jim's. Richard's hair is as tall as his palm and looks like he has ventured his fingers into a socket and why would he possibly put styling product in there to _deliberately_ make it look that way? Jim hates being undressed by strangers' gazes but has a taste for style that Sebastian had always considered innate before now.

Richard looks nothing like Jim, and everything like Jim, and Jim doesn't look himself at all as he curls his shoulders in on himself at his brother's attention and yet this look is precisely Jim. This is Before Jim. This is young, vulnerable Jim and this is Jim who has forgotten he can hold an M4 aloft without a strap and hit multiple targets mindless of the big gun's kick. This is Jim, who can manipulate a room of heavy duty gangsters, afraid of his little brother's anticipated rejection.

Richard's eyes are full of hate. They are not Jim's precise shade of umber.

“What are you doing in my town?”

The Cockney accent momentarily knocks Sebastian for six but Jim seems to expect it. The little criminal flinches again but seems unsurprised by the question.

“I heard you were about,” Jim says carefully.

“You've no reason to see me,” Richard declares coldly.

Jim expects this question. He is not prepared for it. “I missed you,” he confesses bravely.

Richard gives him a scathing look. “You didn't. What do you want?”

Jim swallows. Sebastian wants to walk over and squeeze his hand but he does not want to draw attention to himself. This is about the brothers.

“Can we talk?” Jim asks.

“Tongue in your mouth isn't there?” Richard spits.

“It's only worth something if you're willing to participate,” Jim says carefully.

Richard gives him an assessing, bored, bitter look. He turns and starts walking away.

Jim seems unsurprised. He follows down cracked pavements through methadone zombies, not-so-old winos and feral children.

“I expected if you came back at all it would be for the funeral,” Richard says over his shoulder.

Jim curls his lip. “What for? Even if there was anything to inherit I'm sure I would have been written out of his will.”

Richard faces forward and continues walking through shabby, old streets. “There would have been me.”

Jim grips his own elbows and frowns between his brother's shoulder blades. “I expected you to be long gone.”

“Of course you thought that,” Richard bites.

Jim sways his head from one side to the other and Sebastian knows his brunet is fighting the urge to cringe back at the chastisement.

Richard leads them to the ugliest little terraced house Sebastian has ever seen and opens an unlocked front door. Nothing worth stealing, Sebastian supposes. No enemies to fend off either.

“So what's with the bodyguard?” Richard asks.

Jim and Sebastian blink for a moment but Jim recovers quickly. “My partner,” he says with an openness that surprises Seb.

“And you brought him here?” Richard questions.

“He knows what I'm from,” Jim says.

“Knowing it theoretically isn't exactly encountering it face to face, is it?” Richard states.

Jim shrugs and tosses his head to Sebastian. “Go sit down.”

Sebastian hopes the battered couch will take his weight and does as bid.

“Let's put the kettle on, hey?” Jim prompts.

Richard's brows rise. “You're stayin'?”

Jim jerks his head. “T'talk,” he blurts carefully.

Richard eyes Sebastian and turns towards the cramped kitchen. “I'll be fetching the fancy cups, shall I?”

Jim snorts softly. “You mean the ones with the least amount of chips? Aye.”

Richard's lips twitch upwards then he scowls at the softness of the moment. He disappears into the kitchen and doesn't return until the tea is made.

Sebastian takes his with a polite thank you and tries to soften the crispness of his Oxford elocution. Richard's eyes clearly say, 'Where the hell did Jimmy find _you_?' The brunet has just the manners enough not to voice the question aloud.

“So. Ye getting' married?” Richard queries.

Jim chokes on his tea and Sebastian wonders whether he should question how attractive he finds the dribble of liquid tea-spit down his lover's chin.

“Not getting married,” Jim splutters.

“Yet,” Sebastian adds blithely.

Jim turns and mouths, 'WHAT?' exaggeratedly before even wiping the trail down his chin.

“So you're wanting a kidney or the like then?” Richard determines.

Jim shakes his head. “I'm perfectly healthy...”

“Well you won't have come to me for money, so what is it you're wantin'?” Richard asks.

“To see you? Talk to you?” Jim responds. He hugs his tea defensively.

“Why in the devil's name would ya wanna do that?” Richard blurts, some of the adopted Englishman fading from his accent.

“You're my brother?” Jim says starkly.

Richard stares at him with an expression of clear refusal. “Excuse us,” he tells Sebastian, then jerks his head sharply at Jim before walking stiffly into the kitchen. 

Jim nods at Sebastian then follows with his lips pressed tightly together.

“What do you _want_?” Richard demands.

“I just… To see that you're okay,” Jim says.

“Well you've seen, haven't you?” Richard snaps dismissively.

Jim shuffles backwards. “Are you really okay?”

“Why would you care?” 

Jim swallows. “It's me, Ri-”

“I am not your brother,” Richard states icily. “Everything was fine here, until you showed up.” 

Jim pales. “I-”

“Take one step closer and I will kill you,” Richard snarls defensively.

“I don't wanna hurt you!” Jim protests.

“Then why the fuck are you here? You never bring anything good,” Richard berates.

Jim swallows again.

“Well?” Richard presses.

“Can… Can you just shut up for a bit?” Jim whispers. “I don't mean you any harm. I just needed to see you were okay.” 

Richard curls his upper lip. “It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself.” 

Jim almost doesn't say anything. Then he sniffs and bitterly admits, “I _miss_ you, alright?”

“Why, take your own licks now, do you?” Richard sneers softly.

“I'm sorry,” Jim says, and if Richard really knows how much the phrase costs his twin he does not acknowledge it.

Richard narrows his eyes and turns to rummage in a drawer. He fishes out a creased carton of cigarettes and a cheap lighter. “Come outside.”

Jim follows at once. It twists his gut to watch his twin shield the cigarette so carefully from the wind with a scarred, pale, familiar, haunting, little hand. Richard always flips the lighter away with an understated but very particular flourish as he pushes it into his pocket.

Richard's shoulders heave as he takes his first drag. He has beautiful lips like this. Jim often wondered whether his looked the same.

Richard takes a few more breaths then opens his eyes reluctantly and turns his gaze sidelong on his brother. “Too rich to bum one now?”

Jim realises with surprise how unlike him it is not to automatically share a packet with his brother. “I don't smoke so much anymore,” he says with a tiny inflection of wonder.

Richard curls his lips. “The big one have your ass for it?”

Jim crosses his arms but feels like his twin might be softening. “It will not endear me to him, put it that way.”

“Relax, I don't need to see him smack you,” Richard states dryly.

“That wouldn't make it even,” Jim says quietly.

Richard snorts and takes a further drag. “Too right it wouldn't.”

They are quiet for a while. They look out at the shabby coal bunkers, wheelie bins and sun-bleached children's toys in the communal garden space. Someone has left an undercounter fridge to rot. They have not bothered to remove its door despite the commercials of the eighties. To be fair, some of the grandmothers around here were born later than that.

Richard announces, “I don't know whether I should hug you or punch you.”

“More of a welcome than I expected then,” Jim says.

Richard eyes him through smoke. “What, you thought I'd black your eyes soon as I saw you?”

“If you didn't have a meat cleaver handy,” Jim jokes weakly. He sighs starkly. “Why wouldn't you?”

Richard stubs out his cigarette and spins on his heel. He warns, “I can think of several things I'd rather be doing right now.” 

“If we don't talk now then when?” Jim reasons.

Richard steps forwards fiercely. “If you gave a damn about me at all you wouldn't...” 

Jim does not raise his arms in self defense. He crosses the short distance between them in concern when Richard trails off looking upset.

“Don't touch me!” Richard snarls.

“I'm not going to hurt you-”

“Since when?” Richard spits. He shrugs his twin off and steps away.

“Am I so unlovable still?” Jim whispers.

“Don't. Don't give me that,” Richard replies quietly. He paces closer. “Don't pretend like you care.”

“I'm no-”

“SHUT UP,” Richard hisses.

Jim steps back placatingly. He brushes against the brickwork and his breath catches as he sees where they once scratched their names together as children. The sight constricts his throat and prickles his eyes.

Richard follows his brother's gaze. Scowling through shining eyes the younger brunet kicks out at the juvenile graffiti, dislodging corroded red brick and bits of moss.

Jim flinches but doesn't lift his eyes from their names. “You didn't have to do that.” 

“Did I mean _anything_ to you?” Richard demands tightly.

Jim looks up at once. “Of course y-”

“I don't believe you,” Richard states bluntly. It kills the rest of the words in Jim's mouth. Richard stares at him frostily.

“I'm just making this worse amn't I?” Jim says tiredly. “I'm sorry. I'll go.” 

The responding silence seems to be a painful goodbye. Jim pushes away from the wall to leave. There is a grey cast to his face; his expression entirely closed off. Richard lets his twin leave through not just the kitchen door but the actual front door before unfreezing and running after Jim. Sebastian watches them both from the living room in a mild state of bewilderment. He has finished his tea.

Richard is wild eyed as he hops down the front steps. “Since you left...”

Jim turns and his pale hands shake at the suddenly warm, hesitant tone of his younger brother's voice.

“Jim?” Richard drops his voice to hushed tones and approaches closely. “You… You killed him, didn't you?”

Jim blinks and says nothing for a beat. His expression is tense.

Sebastian follows the pair outside in time to see Jim nod slowly. The dark-haired criminal licks his dry lips carefully.

“You're safe,” Jim says to his brother and wishes he could have said it years, years, _years_ sooner.


	34. Yours

Jim is surprised by his brother Richard's request that he and Sebastian do not leave for a hotel but instead stay the night. It is apparent even to a fool that neither twin is comfortable with the option yet Jim hesitantly accepts. Despite Richard's jagged posture snarling a defensive distrust and challenging the couple to leave, Richard's eyes also betray a mixture of emotions which Jim does not dare ignore.

Jim abandoned his brother here before. He will not callously go whilst Richard's eyes beseech him to stay.

“I stripped his room after the funeral, but I can put fresh sheets on the bed if you'd rather both take my room,” Richard states.

The air hangs around the way Richard says 'his' and revulsion jerks Jim forward as he unconsciously shakes his head _no_. He will not be sleeping in their father's bedroom. Jim is so taken with his adamance that he almost does not register the feeling of oddness that follows: Richard now refers to their room as merely _his_. Which is entirely reasonable, considering how long Jim has been away.

“We'll sleep in the living room,” Jim blurts decisively. He hesitates and looks at his brother tentatively, “If that'll alright?”

“I'll get blankets,” Richard says in understanding. He gives the silent Sebastian a look. “Are you sure..?”

“I've slept in enough muddy puddles that any floor or couch feels kingly,” the blond replies. Sebastian is careful not to outright refer to himself as a former British soldier in a Southern Irish home.

“Seb used to serve, as you likely surmised by the set of his shoulders,” Jim adds calmly, reassuring the bigger man that it is not an issue.

Richard curls his lips derisively. “Aye, well, not much of a surprise with your taste for authority, is it?”

Jim chokes as Richard watches an amused smile creep across Sebastian's mouth. The little criminal splutters, “We didn't agree to stay so that you could tell Seb-”

Richard scoffs teasingly. “What, about that young garda of yours? Or that drug dealer, what'shisname, the big brother of one of the lads in our class?”

Jim grimaces. “Perhaps I should be glad we weren't the sort of family to take many photos...”

Richard pretends to examine his nails. “Oh, a few might have survived.”

Jim swallows. He is surprised that his image has not been purged from his family's small collection of photographs and he is almost grateful for the distracting squirm of his stomach at the thought of Sebastian being shown the threatened photos.

Sebastian looks at the brothers with a small smirk. He would very much like to see what his beloved, snarky runt looked like as a child, but the blond holds his tongue for the sake of not upsetting Jim. Sebastian rather hopes -somewhat disloyally- that Richard will show off a few pictures.

Sebastian chews his lip. That would probably set Jim off, and as much as Sebastian enjoys cheering up the brunet, their current setting is probably not the most sensible place to allow Jim to flake out.

Richard fixes Jim with an odd look. “The tin's under my bed. You could have a look through and see if there's any you don't hate.”

Jim looks at Sebastian quickly, “Um-”

“I'll be perfectly well behaved,” Richard states dryly. “Go.”

The couple understand Jim is being dismissed, but are uncertain why. Sebastian tilts his head at Jim in encouragement; he wants to know what the other brunet intends.

Jim presses his lips together thinly, but nods and stands. He marks Sebastian's forehead with a possessive kiss before flicking his gaze questioningly over his twin. Richard's lips twitch at the kiss but he stares back at his brother's challenge with faux innocence. Jim disappears upstairs.

Richard counts the steps until he knows his brother is out of hearing range. They each have a signature creak that they once used to practise avoiding, but that was many years ago.

The man leans back in his chair. “My brother is charming, don't you think?”

Sebastian nods warily. He opens his mouth make some polite jest about it, but Richard fixes him with an intense look. Steepling his fingers like Jim often would before a threat, Richard declares slowly, “Despite that, Jim doesn't make friends easily.”

Sebastian listens.

“He appears to trust you,” Richard comments.

Sebastian's expression softens, then hardens questioningly. “Yes.”

“My father's death was quicker than he deserved,” Richard says softly. He leans forward, smiling with his mouth as though Jim may be watching, but his eyes are fierce. Richard growls, “If you hurt my brother, Sebastian Moran, yours _won't_ be.”

“Good,” Sebastian says crisply.

Richard nods slowly and smiles. “I might not be close with my brother, but if you are anything less than good to him I will find you and I will _gut_ you. Now, would you like some tea?”

Sebastian's lips curl. “Sure.”

Richard stands and jerks his head to the stairs. “You can call Jimmy back. He'll be fretting.”

Sebastian nods, placing his fingers lightly on the smaller man's arm for a moment. Approvingly.

Jim is already on the stairs when Sebastian goes to fetch him. The brunet gives his lover a searching look; Sebastian pulls his arm around Jim's shoulder reassuringly.

“What did I miss?” Jim asks carefully as Richard carries through more mismatched mugs.

“Oh, just small talk,” Richard dismisses. “I was telling Sebastian I just got a role in a children's show. Acting has been a remarkable help for my stammer.”

Jim looks torn between wanting to press the previous question and the urge to compliment his brother. He goes with the latter reluctantly and looks between the two men suspiciously.

Richard reaches for the mismatched photographs in Jim's grasp. “Which ones did you pick out then?”

Jim flinches as though he had carried the photos with him when called without any thought. He looks at Sebastian and rather wants to keep them close to his chest, but Jim bravely allows them into Richard's grasp as his twin swaps them for Jim's tea.

Sebastian is already clutching his own oversized mug and peers curiously over over Richard's shoulder. The actor moves to allow the big man to see more easily. “That's me on the left; Jim on the right.”

Sebastian finds that although the identical twins are similarly attired he has no difficulty identifying each. He cannot quite describe why, but the little boy holding a heavy book aloft has more of Jim's manner than the child already waiting on an old woman's lap.

“This your grandmother?” Sebastian asks.

“Yeah, we stayed with her when we were small,” Richard says. Something in his voice suggests he misses the woman. Sebastian pulls Jim into the group. He knows his lover misses her too.

Richard takes a sip of his too-hot tea and shuffles to the next photo one-handed.

Sebastian holds his own drink more tightly. Young Jim and Richard are dressed in baggy shorts playing in an expanse of sandy coastland. Jim already has the scar on his shoulder. Both boys are also exceptionally thin.

Richard follows Sebastian's gaze and quickly switches the pictures to the next. The brunet glances silently at his brother's arm as though realising the scar remains; Sebastian recognised it.

Jim chews his lip and looks warily at his brother. The next photograph is of the pair as teenagers. They have clearly taken this photo themselves and lean their heads together comfortably, grinning out from the polaroid square.

Richard seems to understand Jim's apprehension; they weren't close for much longer after this. The actor gives his twin a reassuring look until Jim swallows and looks away. Richard tenderly runs his thumb over the image.

Sebastian only just catches the exchange. He is staring at the pale, skinny boys in ill-fitting teeshirts. Richard is shaggy-haired in ripped jeans whilst Jim is already wearing dark tracksuit bottoms. Jim had described Richard as 'the good one' so Sebastian had pictured a neat, bookish kid. Jim had also described himself as a bit of a maths nerd, so Sebastian had not expected the thuggish haircut and cocky grin.

Jim raises his brow at Sebastian's attention to the photograph. “What?” he snaps softly.

Sebastian chuckles and ruffles his lover's hair affectionately. “This is adorable.”

Jim bristles slightly but cannot help but succumb to the love in Sebastian's touch. He grumbles quietly to himself, stopping with an audible swallow when Richard laughs openly at them.

Sebastian kisses Jim's temple and flicks his gaze to Richard. “You must have plenty of stories about mischief you pair got into growing up… Jim's quite closed-lipped about what he was like as a kid.”

“He dressed up as Rambo for hallowe'en one year,” Richard teases.

Jim splutters. “When I was _really small_ ,” he protests.

Sebastian squeezes his arm around Jim's narrow shoulders. “You're _still_ really small.”

“If I thought you were likely to gang up on me I wouldn't have brought you,” Jim says mildly sourly.

“If your family can't tease you, who can?” Sebastian asks, kissing Jim's cheekbone. Jim rolls his eyes and drinks deeply from his mug.

Richard smiles at them. “Speaking of adorable, have you set a date?”

Jim chokes on his tea. Sebastian puts both their mugs on the coffee table and thumps Jim's back helpfully. “Not as yet; he might have a heart attack,” the blond jokes. Jim swats him weakly once he has regained control over his ability to breathe.

“You'd look cute in a dress,” Richard tells his brother playfully.

“I _would not_ be the one in a dress!” Jim insists.

Sebastian smirks. “Does that mean if I wear the dress you'll marry me?”

Jim gives the bigger man a bewildered look then stomps off to the couch. “You're all bullying me,” he grouses.

“I'll have you know I have cracking legs, thank you very much,” Sebastian teases as he trots over.

Richard puts his things on the table and drops down on Jim's other side. “You're always so bloody sensitive,” he says affectionately.

Jim blinks as his brother pushes up against him physically, as though they are comfortable with each other. Jim grasps his brother's arm, squeezing it to get Richard to stop, it's too overwhelming, and holds the actor tight when Richard tries to pull away gently in response.

Sebastian watches them. “Where's the nearest chip shop?” he asks brightly. “It's probably about time we ate. I'll go.”

The brothers look at him understanding perfectly well what he is really offering. Richard looks at Jim then pulls a note out of his trouser pocket. “Two streets down and to your left. If you reach a statue you've gone too far.”

Sebastian waves away the money. “I'll need to break change for later anyway,” he says. “What are you having?”

Richard starts to argue, but Jim squeezes his brother's arm. The actor looks around quietly then slowly acquiesces. 

Sebastian goes off in search of their dinner.

The twins are on their way to being drunk when he returns. Richard exalts cheerfully about food whilst Jim twists to kiss Sebastian's jaw sloppily.

The big man looks the twins over carefully. Their body language suggests they are comfortable with each other now, but the way their clothing is dishevelled suggests they may have fought in his absence. Jim's lashes are sitting awkwardly, as though he's pressed the heel of his palm into them when wet, and when Sebastian stares at Richard more carefully, the light bounces tellingly down dried tear tracks.

“You pair had fun, I can see,” Sebastian comments.

Richard shrugs calmly as he tears into chips that smell strongly of vinegar. “A good shout clears the air. You have brothers, Seb?”

“Three,” Sebastian says before he can think. He doesn't feel like amending to two, so he keeps his mouth shut. It's not technically a lie; Rawdon's dead yes, but still his brother. Sebastian looks around the room. “There's a lot less broken furniture than when my brothers and I tussle.”

“If they're all as big as you I'm not surprised,” Richard snorts.

Sebastian laughs openly. “I suppose,” he muses, unconsciously reaching for Jim's food and breaking the fish into small pieces. Jim is impatient and always burns himself during this task; Sebastian always takes over because 'the skin of his hands is thicker'.

Jim takes a chip from Sebastian's own parcel. He is oblivious to the way Richard watches them.

Sebastian sits back and licks his reddened fingers. They remain slick with grease.

Richard steals a mouthful of Jim's fish and smirks at his brother. Jim does not threaten to stab him with the tiny splinter of a wooden fork but merely takes possession of a chip from Richard's lap.

“I'm glad you came back,” Richard says. “And I'm glad you're happy.”

Jim blinks. He does not know what to say, so he hands Richard another piece of fish. His brother seems satisfied.

Later Jim curls up with Sebastian on the living room floor. He tries to ignore how familiar their blanket smells and burrows instead into the crook of Sebastian's arm.

“Glad you came?” Sebastian asks.

“Yes,” Jim whispers. He kisses the bigger man's underarm. “Thanks for… I wouldn't have, without you… Thank you.”

Sebastian kisses the smaller man's crown. “It's nothing.”

“It's not,” Jim insists. “You always fix everything.”

Sebastian shifts uncomfortably. “It might… you know, it might take a while, before… things are honestly okay between you and your brother? Like properly?”

“I know we can't magically erase… everything,” Jim scoffs quietly, “but I didn't think there was anything to salvage _at all_.”

“Yeah, well, you're not the only clever one in this relationship,” Sebastian replies.

Jim takes a deep breath. “Speaking of...”

Sebastian tugs him closer comfortably. “Yes, love?”

Jim is quiet for a beat. The bigger man get the feeling Jim doesn't want to push it, but then the brunet bravely presses on, “You and Richard have been making quite a few jokes about us...”

Sebastian swallows. “About marriage, you mean?”

Jim clears his throat softly in agreement.

Sebastian considers his words carefully. “Well, that's what people do when they love each other, isn't it? Get married?”

“We're Catholic,” Jim says quietly.

“Catholic men can get married now,” Sebastian responds gently. “Even in churches.”

“No, Seb.” Jim swallows. “Catholics… We don't get divorced.”

Sebastian blinks. He twists around to look at Jim properly. “I've no intention of divorcing you,” the blond whispers fiercely. He sounds insulted.

Jim's hand finds the scars on Sebastian's chest. “Really?”

“When I marry you that's damn well the end of it as far as I'm concerned,” Sebastian grumbles indignantly. He catches himself. “If,” he sighs, correcting the slip.

“I'm not sure I'd be a good husband,” Jim says.

“All you'd need to do is be yourself with a ring on your finger,” Sebastian says softly.

Jim swallows. “Seb?”

The big man squeezes him close. “Hmm?”

“What… What about your name on my chest?” Jim asks. His pulse feels odd in his cavernous torso; his throat; his head.

Sebastian forgets how to breathe for a second. He splutters and has to sit up, pulling Jim up with him. “You want to match?” Sebastian asks.

“You've left your mark there whether you stay or go, so… Might as well make that official,” Jim says very carefully.

“A ring would hurt less,” Sebastian responds. He snuggles back down and hugs Jim. “But anything you want; you know it.”

Jim swallows again and nods. “When we go home?”

“If you want, mo chroí,” Sebastian agrees.

“I want to be yours,” Jim whispers.

“Already are,” Sebastian answers.


	35. More Dizzying Than Trainers

The first thing anyone notices about Sebastian is his size; he is both tall and broad. The second thing taken note of is the exceptional _strength_ inferred by the circumference of his musculature.

What is observed next is dependent upon circumstances such as those present and the environment the first sighting of the large man takes place within. Sometimes people notice his handsome face and ugly facial scarring. Sometimes it is his charm and easy way with people, whether he is effortlessly seducing pretty women of various types or drinking enough with close-cropped peers to take down a sizeable bull elephant. Other times it is the weapon in his hands or the deadly glint in his predatory blue eyes.

Kin and countrymen can find agreement in Sebastian's role as a troublemaker. He likes sex, and alcohol, and gambling, and makes no secret of any of that.

Sebastian's father could describe his opinion of the disgraced officer in mere facial expressions: Sir Moran's level of disgust is equal to several dense paragraphs and an appendix of demonstratory reports weighing more than some of the conquests Sebastian has previously bedded.

Sebastian's mother knows better than to turn a conversation to her wilful son, but she can express a complex array of emotions merely by describing the man as, “My son.”

Rawdon was in no condition to be giving character references on anyone.

The eldest remaining of the Moran offspring is remarkably like her father in her ability to blacken a man's name with a flinch of her nostrils. Augusta would not appreciate the irony of her looking down at Sebastian with the same air of haughty superiority as the father they so dispise. 

Christabel Moran works for the modern day MI9 and will not thank anyone who mentions her brothers as she has quite enough paid work to be getting on with. Christabel admits Sebastian's magnetism for unfortunate happenings but those who badmouth him in her indomitable presence tend to find themselves suffering in ways that do not appear to directly correlate with their poor choice in ears.

Sebastian's twin Severin has a lot of time for his big brother, and a lot -but not enough- practise at avoiding angrily denouncing any slights on Sebastian's much maligned character. Severin would greatly like to tell several people that Sebastian took the dishonourable discharge which was rightfully _Severin's_ , but the younger Moran knows better than to voice this irk.

The youngest Moran was not worth asking for any testimony. Jaspar would merely crumple his face at the question. “Loud?” he would say at last. “Big,” the only dark-haired Moran child would eventually add when prompted, his air that of someone expecting adulation for going to such unreasonable lengths as saying words to anyone over twenty-five who was not in the music industry or could be found on Yellow with drug emojis in their user bio.

Jim would describe Sebastian in none of these ways, and Jim knows Sebastian better than anyone. Inwardly, the slight man considered Sebastian's bulk a comforting, hulking presence which towered perpetually over him. Sebastian's apparent brute strength does not intimidate Jim. Sebastian is predominantly _gentle_ in Jim's mind.

Sebastian is gentle, and loving, and kind. To Jim, Sebastian is – in every possible way- a perfect specimen. The bizarre, bewildering blond is a nonjudgemental, nurturing presence which Jim had lacked all his life.

Jim does not know the exact details of Sebastian's discharge (a painful subject, the brunet typically lacking in empathy understands) but Jim knows Sebastian is all loyalty and self-sacrifice. 

Jim understands that Sebastian's youthful rebellion and general 'naughtiness' were born of frustration and misery. Sebastian Moran hates Sir Augustus and the only thing which prevents Jim from wreaking vengeance on the man is the certainty that Sebastian takes comfort in imagining a variety of creative and brutal punishments for his dear old dad.

Sebastian has darkness in his soul. Jim is certain that Sebastian is a good man, but the wickedness within is an additional draw, not a deterrent.

Jim loves Sebastian with a depth of feeling unlike anything the brunet had even before believed possible.

Sebastian is large, tender hands and loving, understanding gazes. Sebastian is what Jim values most in the world.

Jim reckons he has a great deal to thank Sebastian for. Sebastian has essentially saved Jim: not just from street prostitution, but the stray's very soul. Without Sebastian, Jim would have no sense of worth; no satisfying career; no prospects; no experience of real love. _Real, deep, solid, irrepressible love._

Jim had imagined a world where he had killed his own deserving father and been granted clemency by his brother Richard for sins best left unsaid, but Jim had always considered this to be a fantastical best case scenario: no one could ever love Jim. Of this fact Jim Moriarty was certain.

Sebastian loves Jim, and Jim could never have foreseen this, or understood this this could be _so_ good.

Richard had stood about as awkwardly as Jim himself had done when it was time for the criminals to return home to London. At the last moment Richard had dived forward and gripped Jim's frame to his chest forcefully. Jim understood this as an embrace, and knew Sebastian's blessed hands on Jim's soul had moulded the moment. If there was anything worth caring about within Jim it was there by the grace of the big man's nurturing. This Jim knew.

Jim had always been a fearful little creature. Jim had always felt alien to his surroundings: he felt like a vibrating, half-tangible ghost marring the chosen channel of a poorly tuned old television, and his presence was a perfectly valid motivation for those around him to raise their hands to do their best to resolve his unwanted existence.

Sebastian's firm, loving hands smooth out the violent agitation of Jim's trembling soul.

“Get some sleep,” Sebastian rumbles.

Jim looks up quickly. “It's a short flight,” he protests after a beat.

“You're exhausted,” Sebastian declares with a pointed gaze at Jim's grey pallour and purpled undereye rings. “It's been a lot for you, the past few days.”

Jim is silent. Sebastian waits.

“Wake me up before we land, Seb,” Jim concedes softly. Sebastian strokes Jim's hair and the brunet takes that as an agreement.

Sebastian carries Jim off of the plane like a sleeping toddler eighty minutes later and tries not to feel pleased about the softly amused and adoring looks three of the Aer Lingus flight stewards give them.

Jim is mortified when he is awoken, not by the cold English air on his sleep-warmed skin, but by Sebastian rousing his gently to go through security. Sebastian's bulk gets him picked for extra screening often, but few are brave enough to ever search him thoroughly.

Jim blushes upon realisation of his predicament, but Sebastian gives border control a look over Jim's head and the uniform decides security is not worth an altercation with this giant, Republic or not.

“I told you to wake me,” Jim mumbles accusingly into Sebastian's side.

Sebastian is surprised Jim has not bolted away to negate possible further attention. The big blond curls a rough hand tenderly around the back of Jim's neck and kisses the warm, scarred scalp. Sebastian shoulders their baggage and Jim curls his slim fingers into the broad man's jacket.

“Seb,” the brunet admonishes quietly.

“You were tired,” Sebastian apologises unrepentantly. A smile appears in his voice. “Want me to carry you to the car?”

“Fuck off,” Jim snorts, punching the bigger man weakly.

The brunet falls asleep on Sebastian's shoulder in the back of the black cab. The blond carries Jim up to their bedroom without breaking the little man's slumber. Sebastian tucks Jim into bed and moves back to tidy away their belongings.

Jim makes a whiny noise of displeasure and reaches out his arms. He opens his eyes as Sebastian moves back within reach.

“Urgh, what have you turned me into?” Jim sighs.

Sebastian considers how he feels Jim's influence has changed him for the better. The blond kisses scar tissue on Jim's arm. “Only yourself,” Sebastian answers.

Jim's gaze flickers. He pulls Sebastian down by the front of the big man's shirt. “Go get your toys and join me in the shower.”

Sebastian blinks. “Don't you want to wait a while? Sleep on it?”

Jim pulls off his shirt. “I've slept enough.”

“Jim,” Sebastian protests.

The brunet fixes dark eyes on the other man. “Unless you have no desire to claim me?”

“Don't be _fucking stupid_ ,” Sebastian growls with an aggression that surprises the brunet. The big man's lips twitch in dry amusement at the way Jim's eyes fly open. Sebastian pulls Jim back down into the bed.

“Tomorrow,” Sebastian declares. “I want a good night of pounding your arse before you're too tender.”

Jim raises a brow. “Why exactly is my arse going to be too tender? You're going to cut my chest, aren't you?”

“Less chance other people see your arse than your chest,” Sebastian says. “And if you change your mind...”

“I'm not going to change my _fucking_ mind,” Jim snarls.

Sebastian blinks and smiles shyly. “All the same… I thought you'd want something more subtle.”

“You're not carving 'Basher Was Here' into my arse,” Jim chides.

Sebastian laughs throatily. “I'm brave, not _stupid_.”

“Debatable,” Jim says. He curls back up against Sebastian's chest and is napping again soon after.

Sebastian sneaks out the following morning with a kiss on Jim's mouth and a promise of well-fired morning rolls. He almost forgets the rolls.

If Jim notices Sebastian's nerves he does not say. The little brunet instead pulls out Seb's knife collection expectantly after returning from a thorough shower.

Jim bites Sebastian after one too many repetitions of, 'Are you _sure_?” The brunet did give plenty of warning beforehand.

Jim watches his lover deliberate over the knives. The brunet had anticipated Sebastian's choice of a sheepsfoot or wharncliffe for ease of writing letters, but the blond surprises him.

Sebastian reaches for a droppoint knife.

He asks _again_ for Jim's consent. Jim pokes him a little with the closest knife.

Sebastian wipes away the blood then wipes a path down Jim's skin with a swab of alcohol. The brunet quivers, watching in fascination as Sebastian clears a wide trail over his hip, down his side, and under his bottom.

Sebastian meets Jim's eyes. The path is a swirling 'S': anonymous yet intimate.

“Yes,” Jim repeats. 

Sebastian kisses him at length. Afterwards Jim watches the numinous act -an experience that makes him fearful yet fascinated, awed yet attracted. The powerful, personal experience of being overwhelmed and inspired and _bleeding_ lingers with Jim as Sebastian flutters red kisses along hypersensitive skin.

“Arty?” Sebastian murmurs through a garnet mouth.

Jim gives him a loving look. “Yes, Tiger?”

“Got you a present,” Sebastian says awkwardly.

Jim thinks of his trainers, his knife, his onesie, his life, Sebastian's heart. The ring the muscled blond suddenly holds out makes Jim dizzier than the blood loss.


	36. Hitch A Tiger

Sebastian feels terrible. His body aches and feels, quite frankly, _odd_.

His mouth is dry.

His head is tight and painful. His thoughts seem sluggish.

Sebastian does not open his eyes. He feels something constrictive around his wrists.

The big man spares little time fixating on how that makes his mood plummet and perks his ears instead.

Where is he? How bad is it? Is he alone, and if not, has he given away his conscious state?

 _Where the fuck is Arty_?

The thought comes unbidden and unwelcome. Sebastian squashes it. Not yet. He has to focus on the task at hand.

Sebastian cannot hear voices. There is a clock somewhere; he judges by the sound of it it is an uncomplicated one. Cheap.

His surroundings smell a little damp. Disused. That doesn't bode well.

Sebastian cannot hear anyone else's breathing so he risks testing the bindings around his wrists.

Expertly done. _Damn it_.

Sebastian risks opening his eyes and takes a swift, calculated look around.

No immediate threats; a bland magnolia room with dark-stained wood. There is a closed door; Sebastian is uncertain whether his muscles will support him that far. He feels something lingering in his system.

Sebastian shifts himself quietly – Jesus, what hit him? - and sets about using his shoelaces to weaken the plastic keeping his arms captive.

A heavy man's tread approaches over old, warped floorboards. They protest their ill fit without check.

Sebastian frees his limbs with difficulty. He is not unpractised but his body feels unwieldly; it struggles to follow his commands, swimming through the air not quite managing coordination or fine motor skills. Sebastian wastes no time cursing it and instead considers his surroundings; his abilities; his split-second _plan_ -

The brass doorknob squeaks open.

Sebastian closes his eyes as someone large walks into the room.

He instantly wants to open them again.

“Your missus is _fuckin' mental_ , by the way,” says a familiar voice.

Sebastian directs his blue gaze at his brother. “What the bleeding _fuck_ 'Rin?”

The equally broad Moran does not look surprised by Sebastian's outburst. Instead the younger blond carries a bottle of water over to Sebastian and offers it calmly.

Sebastian gives the water and his brother a mistrustful look, but he quickly opens the cap with his teeth and fills his cottony mouth.

“Brook's through there trying to calm him down,” Severin offers.

Sebastian gazes at his twin. “ _Richard_ Brook? Would you catch me up please? Is Jim alright? What-?”

Severin punches Sebastian's shoulder a little too roughly to be casual. “ _You_ should drink more of that, because your idiot wife drugged and kidnapped us and I want you to be able to think when you rake him over the coals about it. Moriarty's fine, the little cunt, apart from having a massive fit, which Mum and his brother are dealing with.”

“Mum's here? Sebastian questions. “Help me up; I'll calm him.”

Severin takes the bottom of the bottle he had handed Sebastian and pointedly tilts it upwards. “Your legs aren't going to work for a bit and I wouldn't go through _there_ quite yet if I was you.”

“Is he alright?” Sebastian presses. 

“He's getting a pep talk from our mother so I might not go that far,” Severin replies with a grimace, “but he's safe enough now.”

“ _Now_?” Sebastian roars.

“Relax,” Severin snorts. “Apparently Brook didn't like being drugged either. Mum… gave them _both_ a time out.”

Sebastian chokes and has to take more water. “How did that go?”

“Mum's seen the fresh scar on his arse,” Severin mutters.

“Shit,” says Sebastian.

Severin nods sympathetically and lifts his brother's bottle again. “With any luck you're in enough trouble.”

Sebastian puts the water down. “Why am _I_ in trouble? What's _happened_?”

Severin snorts unsympathetically. “Look around, bruv. Does the smell not give it away?”

“We're in a church?” Sebastian hazards. He still looks confused.

“Chapel,” corrects Severin absently. “Any idea why your _psycho_ missus would drug us and bring us to a church?”

Sebastian stops noticing the ache in his head. He stares at his brother, who curls his lip and nods. “Yeah, you proposed to that, so this is your fault.”

“Jim's fucking perfect,” Sebastian argues, “he's just… highly strung.”

Severin nods soberly. “Aye, he seemed like a nervous little thing after the whole drugging us and looming over my banging head ordering me to look after you. I'd have strung him up if he wasn't yours.” The blond wrinkles his nose. “Chasing tigers get too predictable for you?”

Sebastian gives him an amused look then presses his lips together. “Is he alright?” Sebastian asks again softly. “Jim's probably freaking out now.”

“Oh, he is,” Severin says. “Hence Mother's pep talk.” Severin gives his brother a bewildered look. “Mum… she's _weird_ with him.”

“Like… gentle?” Sebastian suggests.

“Yeah,” Severin agrees in quiet incredulity.

“She likes him,” Sebastian says.

“She evidently loves him,” Severin retorts.

Sebastian looks at the bottle in his big hands. “Yeah.”

Before the brothers can say anything else there is another chorus of floorboard squeals. The tread is far lighter than that of Severin's boots.

“Jim said you'd be up by now,” Richard states.

“Feel like I've been kicked by a horse,” Sebastian says wryly.

“Better than being laid low by ket,” Severin says.

“Jim wants to know you're okay,” Richard interrupts tersely.

“He could check himself,” Severin grumbles.

“Can't see the bride before the wedding,” Sebastian and Richard say together.

“Neither of you are fuckin' brides though, eh?” Severin points out.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. Severin does not find it a familiar gesture. Richard does.

“How is my little idiot?” Sebastian asks.

Richard purses his lips. “Worried. Your Ma's calmed him down some but he's still in a bit of a state.”

“He'll be bloody overwhelmed,” Sebastian says knowingly.

“You've seen Jim melt down before then?” Richard asks.

Sebastian nods. “Oh yeah. Intimacy… big things… really makes him panic.”

Richard nods. “Your Ma's spoken to him and given him a few 'vali's. The brat's not exactly repentant about drugging us, but he is worried about your reaction.”

Richard startles Sebastian with a hard look.

“If you are not perfectly good to my brother I will remind you what I told you last time we spoke,” the brunet warns.

Sebastian blinks, swallows, and clears his throat. He's not quite sure how to explain the scar on Jim's pert little arse, so the blond fumbles with shirt buttons instead. Sebastian wordlessly exposes the initials carved into his own chest.

Richard's expression changes immediately to acceptance. The smaller man nods in silent approval.

Severin squints sidelong at his twin. “You're as barmy as your missus.”

“Yes,” Sebastian says shortly. He turns back to Richard. “Is there a mirror around here?” I should probably clean up a bit if we're going to do this.”

Richard smiles crookedly. “I'll go tell him to get his act together. Your best man can show you where your outfit is. I imagine you can walk by now.”

Severin gives his brother a shy grin. “At least you've the sense to let it be known I'm your best friend.”

Sebastian snorts and rises unsteadily to his feet as Richard disappears swiftly from the room. Severin guides his brother to the toilets and returns with a suit. 

Cool water from the old pipes feels wonderful on Sebastian's face. Dressing feels odd.

“Wait there; I'll go tell them you're dressed,” Severin says. Sebastian gazes at his brother for a beat then nods quickly. He straightens his tie in the mirror.

Sebastian wonders whether their mother is present to give him or Jim away.

Severin hurries back. “You want this?” he asks.

“Yes,” Sebastian says with certainty.

“I thought so, but I wanted to be sure,” Severin states. He puts an arm around Sebastian's shoulders with much more ease than Jim ever could. “Come on then; let's get you hitched.”

A nervous chuckle escaped Sebastian's lips. It feels different, put like that. Significant, not just floating along with another one of Jim's theatrics.

Jim twitchily approaches the double doors of the neglected church hall with Mrs Moran at much the same time as Sebastian and Severin. The woman has her arm linked around Jim's as though holding him up or preventing him from bolting.

He's wearing his trainers. Sebastian cannot help but smile at the sight.

Jim looks instantly relieved at Sebastian's smile. “I'm sorry,” the little criminal blurts, “I-”

Sebastian grabs the lapels of the smaller man's suit and swoops down to deliver a soothing forehead kiss. “I know. You wobbled. It's a big step I offered you, mo chroí.”

“I thought you'd be more cross,” Jim whispers.

“Can't be cross with you on our wedding day, can I?” Sebastian reasons kindly.

“I drugged our brothers,” Jim says. Mrs Moran gives the brunet a look that makes him blush. Severin is charitably silent.

“They'll forgive you,” Sebastian says. Severin nods coolly.

“I drugged you,” Jim mumbles.

“Better than the wobble that left me with this little scar on my forehead,” Sebastian states. He lightly taps the skin grazed by the mouth of a pistol after their first kiss.

Jim tries to chortle. The noise is strained. Sebastian takes his chin and meets the smaller man's reluctant gaze. “Hey. You do know you didn't need to do all this for me to marry you?”

Jim shuffles uncomfortably in his new suit and old trainers. “I… I guess...”

Sebastian tuts and swats Jim's bottom, lips twitching at the smaller man's wince. “I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to marry you,” the big blond states sternly.

Jim's eyes fill, but Mrs Moran forces open the doors before he can reply later. “Tears later. Ceremony first.”

Sebastian understands with a start why Jim hadn't chosen just two witnesses. Richard is standing just out of reach of what looks to be a very coerced priest.

“Had to marry into a rebel family, didn't you?” Severin whispers in Sebastian's ear. Sebastian cannot help but reply with a small grin as the gleeful tone in his brother's voice translates to: 'This'll piss Dad off _so_ much; congratulations!”

The threatened priest does not seem to fully appreciate the little beretta Richard has pointed at him. He seems quite disgruntled by the lack of other ministers or incense or due propriety. He has not been permitted to perform introductory rites.

The harried clergyman makes the sign of the cross and attempts to greet the small assembly, encouraging the start of a hymn.

Richard narrows his eyes and gestures dismissively with the gun. “Move on.”

The priest looks appalled but moves on into an opening prayer. “Next,” says Richard.

The priest is also denied the Liturgy of the Word. He gives Richard and the others a disgruntled look. “Am I permitted to fill in for the lector or are we to be without a First Reading also?”

“And without a Second Reading, and any psalms, or gospel, or nonsense. Get to the important bit,” Richard retorts.

“It is all important!” the priest replies indignantly.

“Skip to the Homily,” Mrs Moran suggests with a fierce, faux polite smile.

The priest nods reluctantly. He raises a brow at Richard. “May I use the sacred text to expound the Christian Marriage, the dignity of conjugal love,” (Sebastian looks surprised at the priest's straight face), “the grace of the Sacrament and the responsibilities of married people, or would I be better use reminding you of the Ten Commandments, young man?”

“You would be better use not getting your lips shot off for running them too much,” Richard responds coldly.

The priest gives him a sour look and turns to Mrs Moran as though hoping for some sense. “Are both parties baptised?”

“Yes, Father,” she responds.

He nods as though summoning grace, tolerance and patience beneath his bedraggled robes. He manages not to grimace as he begins, “Dearly beloved, you have come together into the house of the Church so that in the presence of His benevolence your intention to enter into Marriage may be strengthened by the Lord with a sacred seal. Christ abundantly blesses the love that binds you. Through a special Sacrament, he enriches and strengthens those he has already consecrated by Holy Baptism, that they may be faithful to each other forever and assume all the responsibilities of married life. And so, in the presence of the Church, I ask you to state your intentions.”

The priest pauses. “Are you using your legal names before God?” he asks Sebastian, as though quite certain slight Jim cannot possibly be the driving force of this fiasco.

“Do you think we won't burn you and yer church if you did anything with them, and do you think your congregation would really care?” Richard snaps.

“May God have mercy on your black soul,” the priest retorts. He looks back at the others.

“Sebastian Moran and James Moriarty,” Mrs Moran declares confidently.

“Taking which last name?” the priest asks carefully.

“Moriarty,” Sebastian states with certainty.

“Moran,” Jim corrects.

Sebastian looks at him incredulously.

“My work's not coming back on you. You'll still know who you belong to,” Jim declares with a calm he has not displayed all day.

Sebastian nods obediently at his lover and gestures for the beleaguered priest to continue.

“Sebastian Moran and James Moriarty, have you come here to enter into Marriage without coercion, freely, and wholeheartedly?” the priest asks dryly.

“I have,” Sebastian and Jim agree. It feels oddly more real to have to speak officially.

The priest continues, “Are you prepared, as you follow the path of Marriage, to love and honour each other for as long as you both shall live?”

Sebastian gives Jim's temple a quick kiss. “I am.”

Jim swallows. “I am,” he repeats.

The priest fixes both of the men with a solemn look. “Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from God and to bring them up according to the law of Christ and His Church?”

“...We're gay,” Sebastian blusters at the same moment Jim exclaims, “We're _men_.”

“I'm a modern man,” the priest sniffs.

Madame Moran slaps both grooms in the back of the head (having to reach considerably further for Sebastian than for Jim). “They are,” she declares.

“Good luck,” Jim snorts. He yelps as Mrs Moran swipes at his sore bottom.

Richard clears his throat. The priest continues, “Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and His Church.”

Sebastian reaches for Jim's hand. The smaller man grasps Sebastian tightly.

The priest leads the couple through their vows, which they repeat after him.

“I, Sebastian Moran, take you, Jim - _James_ \- Moriarty, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honour you all the days of my life.”

Jim looks a little grey. Carefully he agrees, “I, James Moriarty, take you, Sebastian Moran, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and bad, in sickness and health, to love and to honour you all the days of my life.”

“May the Lord in his kindness strengthen the consent you have declared before the Church and graciously bring to fulfillment his blessings within you. What God has joined, let no one put asunder,” the priest announces. “May the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, the God who joined together our first parents in paradise, strengthen and bless in Christ the consent you have declared before the Church, so that what God joins together, no one may put asunder. Let us bless the Lord.”

“Thanks be to God,” the others reply out of time with each other.

“We will follow with an acclamation-”

Richard hums discouragingly.

“We will proceed to the blessing and giving of rings,” the priest glowers.

“Thank you, Father,” Mrs Moran says gracefully.

He sighs and beckons Severin, who hands over the wedding rings carefully.

“May the Lord bless these rings, which you will give to each other as a sign of your love and fidelity.”

“Amen,” the others respond in time.

“No,” says Jim.

Sebastian feels his heart drop. 

Severin moves closer menacingly but Sebastian gestures firmly at his brother to wait. “Let him speak...”

“Fucking idiot,” Jim mutters acerbically at his lover's best man. The little brunet fixes the priest with a fierce look. “I want the proper version for this bit.”

Sebastian feels giddying relief.

“The 'proper version'?” the priest repeats.

“I want you to bless the rings properly,” Jim insists.

The priest turns to Richard. “Might we venture to the font?”

Richard acquiesces.

The priest feels like starting over after moving everyone. He announces, “Bless, O Lord, these rings, which we bless in Your name, so that those who wear them may remain entirely faithful to each other, abide in peace and in Your will, and live always in mutual charity through Christ our Lord.”

“Amen.”

The priest sprinkles the rings and hands them open palmed to Sebastian, as the rings are not clearly differentiated by gender. Sebastian picks up the smaller ring and feels his heart jump as Jim gives him a hand. Jim's sweating. Sebastian squeezes Jim's hand and slides the ring over the appropriate finger whilst the priest guides Sebastian over the words.

“James Moriarty, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

Jim stares at the ring on his finger. Shakily, he accepts the larger ring from the priest and reaches for Sebastian's left hand.

“Sebastian Moran, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

Sebastian stares at Jim's small hands on his. The ring is plain, unremarkable, on the outside. Practicality. The inside is engraved and Sebastian sees the script for mere moments before Jim hides the words from view. The ring instantly feels like part of Sebastian's being, so whatever those words are, they are part of him now.

“You may kiss,” the priest says gently.

Jim dives up and kisses Sebastian with a vivacity that startles the big blond. Sebastian grabs Jim to keep from falling on the worn floor and wraps both arms strongly around the smaller man. The kiss is forceful, but chaste, and Sebastian's gaze softens as he stares back into Jim's dark eyes full of love.

The priest attempts the Universal Prayer. Richard permits it, because Jim and Sebastian are still standing holding each other.

“Lord, hear our prayer,” Mrs Moran says at the appropriate moment. The priest looks vaguely grateful.

Sebastian and Jim are still standing together with gazes locked, so the priest continues on with the Liturgy of the Eucharist.

Mrs Moran leads Severin to sit with a wink at the priest and a nod to where she has left approved wine. The priest gives her an almost fond look and sings the Offertory Song whilst preparing the altar and fetching the bread and wine as timeously as he can. Sebastian and Jim seem in no rush to bring the gifts forward themselves.

“Receive, we pray, O Lord, the offering made on the occasion of this sealing of the sacred bond of Marriage, and, just as your goodness in its origin, may your providence guide its course. Through Christ our Lord.”

Mrs Moran nudges Severin to stand as the priest continues, “Pray, brethren, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God, the almighty Father.” Richard receives a dirty look from the priest, who then begins the Eucharistic Prayer.

Jim barely remembers to kneel or stand, but Sebastian notes his mother's movements and follows absently, his gaze on his new husband. The pair twine their fingers together to sing the Lord's Prayer.

Mrs Moran and Severin stay standing, but Jim tugs Sebastian's hand to encourage the big man to kneel. The priest gazes at them then invites all present to join in silent prayer for the couple. He extends his hands over the couple and offers a blessing, noting that Richard's expression has softened to neutral.

“I now invite the assembly to offer each other a sign of peace during this happy occasion,” the priest intones.

Jim returns to his tiptoes to kiss Sebastian's cheek. “Peace be with you.”

Richard sidles closer and murmurs to his new brother-in-law, “And with you!”

“And with you,” Sebastian repeats in response. He kisses Jim's nose just because.

The priest gives Richard a look then shrugs and reaches for the Eucharistic bread. He breaks the host whilst Mrs Moran leads them in singing 'Lamb of God' (the others haltingly; her rendition flawless).

Mrs Moran and Jim kneel. Sebastian and Severin quickly follow.

“Who is to receive communion?” the priest asks Mrs Moran, eyeing the blond men.

“Their father's a lapsed Catholic; they are good,” she declares of her sons.

Sebastian and Severin look at her in bemusement, but Jim accepts the Body and Blood of Christ and motions for Sebastian to mimic him. Mrs Moran follows and Severin copies, the wafer almost tasteless on his tongue.

The priest performs a concluding rite and a blessing over both thenewly married couple and the rest of the assembly.

Severin fetches the marriage licence. He pauses at the priest's small squeal and Mrs Moran explains, “That doesn't go on the altar, dear.”

Jim snatches the licence and Sebastian automatically turns to offer his broad back. Jim stares at the paperwork and how it rises and falls just a little as Sebastian breathes. Jim signs. Severin moves over and offers his own back so Sebastian doesn't knock Jim over when signing his own name.

Mrs Moran suddenly looks close to tears as she observes the names written together on the licence. Her boys.

The priest gives Richard an odd look and waves his arms dismissively. “Go in peace to glorify the Lord with your life,” he suggests dubiously.

Jim links hands with Sebastian and kisses the big man's ring. “He can live,” he tells Richard.

Richard nods and salutes the priest with a sneer. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

He glowers at Richard.

“Thank you, Father,” Mrs Moran states.

The priest reluctantly nods. “Peace be with you, my child.”

“And you, Father.”

Severin smirks down at Jim. “Now that you're done kidnapping us, can we go for a drink?”

“I want to fuck my husband,” Sebastian protests tartly.

“Well I want a dance with my sister-in-law first so you'll just have to wait,” Severin declares blithely.

“Boys,” Mrs Moran sighs, “you're in a House of God...”

Richard waves the beretta. “I think he'll allow it. High spirits.”

Mrs Moran gives him a look that suggests he _also_ got a sore bottom before being given a time out for fighting with his brother earlier. Richard's cocky expression shrinks by about six molars and he steps out of the church smartish.

The others follow.

Sebastian lowers his voice and leans in to Jim. “For the record, I don't need drugged for the honeymoon, and if you think you're having a wobble after this I'll chain you to our bed and you'll never see further than Mayfair ever again.”

Jim smiles sweetly and keeps his voice equally low. “For the record, I'm still bloody raw so you're going to be the one taking it hard for _most_ of the night.”

Sebastian snorts. “Sweetheart, we've got our whole lives for as much sex as you like. You can have it any way you want it.” He gives Jim a serious look and lowers his voice even further. “And there's no pressure tonight or any other. If you're too sore-”

Jim takes Sebastian's wrist tightly. “I am not wearing a frilly blue garter for nothing, Basher Moron-”

Sebastian smirks. “Moran. _You're a Moran now too, Kitten._ ”

Jim tries to glare. “The paperwork's not filed yet.”

“Well if you'd rather we could talk about whether your brother and my mother saw your garter before I did,” Sebastian teases.

Jim is evidently embarrassed for a beat. “Our mother,” he retorts when he recovers.

“We know you're newlyweds, but we don't need all the whispering,” Severin mocks.

“We're trying to plan how to ditch you,” Sebastian replies good-naturedly. Severin laughs.

“Oh, that won't be nearly so much fun,” Mrs Moran states in a peculiar voice. Her sons look at her quickly.

Her lips thin wickedly displaying her unnaturally pearly teeth. “Well, your father's abroad, boys. Wouldn't you like to celebrate the occasion in his house?”

Sebastian blinks. “Mother, you rebel.”

“Just this once, dear,” she states. “Special circumstances.”

“If you don't leave bodily fluids all over our father's desk I'm disowning you,” Severin tells Sebastian firmly.

“Severin Moran!” their mother chides. She winks at Sebastian and says very, very quietly, “I hope you break his desk.” She walks on swiftly pretending to have said nothing.

“Mother!” Severin gasps in a scandalised voice. Sebastian cannot even speak. Jim laughs and squeezes Sebastian's huge hand. The sensation of the wedding band still gives him pause.

Mrs Moran gives her boys a faux innocent expression and links arms with Richard. “So now we're family I hope you know you are quite welcome to call me Mummy...”

Severin and Sebastian exchange looks. “I think you broke her,” Sebastian whispers to Jim.

“She totally likes them better,” Severin declares.

Jim snorts at their teasing, but his expression softens as he watches Richard with his new mother. Jim doesn't even think about how likely Richard might be to forgive, instead noting how _good_ Mrs Moran would be for Richard too. They sit together in the car (Mrs Moran driving as even Jim Moran is not brave enough to drug the woman) and although Richard looks unsure, he seems increasingly fond of Mrs Moran throughout the night.

“Oh wait!” Severin exclaims as they leave the car. He goes to the boot and pulls out a parcel which he brings to Jim. “You said to remember these.”

Sebastian eyes the gift curiously. His interest increases tenfold upon noting how flushed Jim suddenly looks.

“They aren't for just now,” Jim insists in a mortified voice.

“What the hell are they?” Sebastian asks.

“A secret,” Jim insists, taking the parcel from Severin and holding it tightly.

“I'll put them in your room, darling,” Mrs Moran offers. Jim is so startled to realise he now has a room in Moran Manor he does not protest her taking the parcel at all. She carries it upstairs, leaving her sons to raid the liquor cabinet.

It's a rather late hour before the newlyweds manage to disentangle themselves from the revelries and stumble upstairs gleefully.

Jim charges on but keeps stopping and giving Sebastian a questioning look at the hundreds of doors. Sebastian eventually chuckles, tired of the game, and picks Jim up to carry his little brunet. It is not lost on either of them that when Sebastian finally reaches his childhood bedroom he carries Jim over the threshold like a bride.

“Going to do that when we get home as well,” Sebastian says.

“Well we can hardly do it the other way around,” Jim says disparagingly. His teasing expression falters on his face as he stares transfixed at his surroundings.

“What?” Sebastian asks. His jaw twitches as he swallows carefully.

“I just… It's different seeing it in the flesh,” Jim says.

Sebastian regards his surroundings sheepishly. “Doesn't quite stand up to the rest of the house, does it? I was only here during the holidays anyway, until the army.”

“Not what I meant,” Jim says. “ _My_ childhood room was… I bet your servants lived better.”

“Are you saying marrying me _wasn't_ you coming down in the world?” Sebastian teases gently.

Jim guffaws a little. “I don't even have anything witty to say, darling. I'm too...”

“Thrilled about these?” Sebastian suggests in a warm whisper. He squeezes Jim pointedly with his left hand.

“So thrilled,” Jim admits.

“Can I kiss you and get you naked, Mrs Moran?” Sebastian whispers.

“Do you really want to sleep on the couch on your wedding night, Seb?” Jim replies.

Sebastian grins cheekily and kisses Jim's neck before carrying the small man over to the bed. Placing his husband down gently, Sebastian begins undressing. “I've got to admit, I was a little surprised by the suit, not that I'm complaining.”

“I might not have remained your mother's favourite if I put you in a dress,” Jim says, his eyes on the way Sebastian's ring catches the light as he unbuttons his shirt.

Sebastian reaches for Jim's belt and unfastens it sharply. His blue eyes are alight with apodyopsis. “I can't deny I want to see the sexy little garter on your white thigh.”

Jim swallows, then smirks and pulls something lacy out of his pocket. “About that...” He grins and looks up at Sebastian winningly. “I got something for you, Mrs Moran.”

Sebastian smirks nervously and reaches for the blue… underpants. Women's underpants. Sebastian uncrumples the knickers and raises his brows at his husband. “Crotchless, assless panties, Jim?”

“First night as a married couple should be memorable, right?” Jim purrs.

Sebastian laughs at himself and pushes down the rest of his own clothing in one motion. Jim gasps and reaches for his husband. “Looks like you don't hate the idea...”

Sebastian smiles sheepishly and gamely tries to interpret how to get the flimsy, beribboned things on. Jim cannot help but laugh and lean forward to kiss Sebastian's wriggling bottom as the large man hops on one leg, hopelessly tangled in the blue knickers.

“My eyes were an adequate 'something blue',” the blond huffs.

“Trust me, Tiger, all my Christmases have come at once,” Jim declares. 

Sebastian hisses as Jim strokes him. “Don't even think about cumming all at once. You're mine all night...”

And Jim was.

It is hours later before Sebastian even acknowledges the parcel they have kicked from the bed. “What is it anyway?”

Jim suddenly looks very sheepish for a man who has buggered his husband repeatedly in a pair of women's assless panties. “Uhm...”

This is the only urging Sebastian needs to pull his exhausted body back up and reach for the intriguing parcel. It's soft and the paper crinkles at being grasped. Jim looks shy.

“May I?” Sebastian asks.

Jim nods reluctantly and snuggles into Sebastian's naked side. He strokes his husband's tattoos to occupy himself.

Sebastian rips open the gift wrap and pulls out the parcel's contents. It splits into two lumps of soft whiteness which spill over Sebastian's lap.

The big blond bursts out laughing and pulls Jim up. “Come here,” Sebastian chuckles mirthfully.

Jim grins awkwardly, relieved that Sebastian does not find the present stupid.

“I'll need to give you a tongue bath first,” Sebastian insists, pinning Jim to the twisted sheets. Jim rolls his eyes and kisses the top of Sebastian's head without protest.

Jim and Sebastian don't get out of bed for much more than a few minutes for more than a day, regardless of their family's amused encouragements to eat. When the pair do eventually shower they pull on the striking white onesies Jim bought. 'Just Married' is proclaimed in sparkling letters across the back of both.

Sebastian already has a habit of playing with his ring when he thinks. “...Mo chroí?” he asks.

Jim sighs, recognising Sebastian's train of thought. “Yes, Sebby?”

“It seems like a real quick turnaround for you to get these customised after I proposed,” Sebastian says with quiet glee.

“You were drugged for some time,” Jim says sourly.

“I don't believe you,” Sebastian says smugly. He laughs and starts to kiss Jim _again_. “You soppy-”

“Don't make me take this ring off,” Jim warns. He clenches his left hand unconsciously as he says it, as though even in jest he has no desire to ever do so.

A fresh thought flickers across Sebastian's eyes and he pulls Jim back onto his broad chest. “What does my ring say?”

Jim raises one brow. “You didn't take it off to look?”

“Course not,” Sebastian says stoutly. Jim understands.

The brunet kisses Sebastian's hand then twists up to reach Seb's mouth. Sebastian pulls him close.

“It says… MY DARLING TIGER,” Jim admits carefully.

Sebastian knows Jim very well, which is why the blond instantly says, “Yours says 'Kitten' doesn't it?”

Jim positively glares. “Shut up.”

“Let me see!” Sebastian insists.

“You can pry it from my cold, dead hand,” Jim retorts.

It takes Sebastian over a year for Jim to admit that in teeny, tiny script Jim's ring pronounces him YOUR BELOVED KITTEN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, and loved the boys' story so far. I adore you all. <3
> 
> Additional note:
> 
> My family is mixed, so whilst I have attended chapel and Catholic weddings, I have also had a pretty Royalist upbringing, so I don't partake in Communion. My Catholic partner recently pointed out that in his church you can't receive Communion if you haven't been to mass in x (could have been one, could have been six, I've forgotten) amount of months, and you'd have to go to confessional about that too.   
> SO technically Mrs Moran is probably the only one who should be getting wine and wafers, but I've kept the scene this way because to me that is a memorable part of a Catholic wedding. Priests probably wouldn't be inclined to marry a couple who weren't attending their church, so this normally wouldn't be an issue. Since our priest is at gunpoint during the wedding I'm going to suggest that's why he's being lax about it.


End file.
